Tristyn
by Luna Goldsun
Summary: An escaped slave, two conniving foxes, four honorbound warriors, a murderous ferret, lost treasure, and a plot to assassinate the most powerful creature in Mossflower...one mission, one goal, one destiny
1. Chapter 1

Foxfire: Chapter 1: The Company

Disclaimer: Redwall is © Brian Jacques and Redwall Abbey Company Ltd. I do not claim ownership of the series or of any original ideas of the author of the series. However, the characters Tristyn, Kyo, Ren, Frey, Dinali, Grenn, Osono Caden, Brynmor Caden, Deirdre, Sway, Anwen Caden and Tarian Rhan are of my creation and are not to be used without my permission. If you would like to use one of my characters, please email me first and ask my permission, otherwise, forget it.

Author's note: I've tried to rewrite Foxfire so many damn times, and I didn't get any inspiration until last night. I feel this is a stroke of genius, but I leave it up to the reader to decide. Let me know what you think, please, read and review.

This fic, for now, is rated for older teens. There is violence and hints at sexuality. Just thought I give y'all fair warning…

* * *

She felt the sharp slap against her cheek, and it threw her a few paces until she collapsed onto the rough stone floor. The overseer stood over her, brandishing his whip. The weasel spat on her. "Stupid mouse! When I tells yer t' do somethin' I expect t' be done right, get it?" he backhanded her again.

The mousemaid hid her face from his blows, bracing herself for the whip lashes which she knew were coming. Sure enough, a sharp crack rent through the air as the flail's end met with her unprotected back. The threadbare dress did nothing to help her, and the whip lashed through the thin material, drawing blood from her raw wounds from previous beatings.

She chanced a look to the other slaves in the compound, working dutifully to construct the fort for their cruel master. Otters, mice, squirrels, hedgehogs, even hares…all bent over, lugging heavy stones from the rocky sea shore to the hill, the single-file lines slow-moving and sluggish. The eyes of every male, female and child were downcast, blank and vacant; this was their lot in life, and they had accepted it.

Problem was, she had not.

…Which explained her current beating… The weasel overseer cracked the whip mere inches from her face, and she winced. When she opened her hazel eyes, she was looking into the fearsome face of her captor.

Dinali looked no different than any other ferret, in fact, by most standards, he would have been considered scrawny. But the mere fact that he was so lanky, and supposedly unimposing, made him that much more dangerous. No one expected the smaller creatures to be killers…but they had speed and dexterity in place of strength and size. And in Dinali's case, he had more than that: he had the most disturbed mind anybeast had ever known. He delighted in torture, was rumored to be a blood drinker, and his savagery was as renowned as his cunning. He, to date, was the only ferret to have been known to outfox a fox, and to kill a grown male badger in full Bloodwrath.

The mousemaid gasped when she saw him, and Dinali gave her a queer grin. "That's much better," he purred. He gently touched her cheek and she recoiled. He grinned wider. Another thing about Dinali the Killer…he liked mind games…a little _too_ much. Too many of his captains had gone insane thanks to him, and that was not counting the number of slaves and prisoners who had succumbed to his twisted mind. He was sick, depraved...and the ferret loved every minute of it.

His lean body stood over her as he continued to grin, his eyes narrowed. He demanded the whip from his overseer, and wrapped it over one paw. Kneeling, he roughly grabbed the mousemaid's chin in his paw and looked at her hungrily.

"You can make this easier on yourself," he said soothingly. "Just do as you're told, and nothing bad will happen to you…or did your parents not teach you obedience?"

She didn't say anything, only stared back into his eyes, a blatant challenge. He frowned. "A challenge eh? Cute." He backhanded her sharply, the blow throwing her to the ground. "Grenn!"

"Sir?" the weasel overseer asked attentively, smartly saluting. Dinali threw the whip back at him and Grenn deftly caught it. "Grenn, I'd like you to take her to my quarters…she needs a little attitude adjustment."

Grenn said nothing, and waited until Dinali had passed by him before he gave the mousemaid a terrified look. It was obvious he did not envy her—but if she went insane like all the others, it wasn't his problem anymore.

Grenn roughly grabbed her upper arm and she struggled against his vice-like grip, screaming and fighting. "NO! let me go! Let me go! Lemme go NOW!"

Grenn quickly lost his patience and raised his paw to strike her again, but his wrist was caught by another.

"Strike her again," a dangerously silky voice said, "and I'll stick that whip where the sun doesn't shine."

Grenn yelped and jumped back. The mousemaid looked up and saw Dinali's second-in-command, a vixen with pale eyes. She looked down disdainfully at the mousemaid. "What does Dinali see in them anyway?" she wondered aloud. "Either way, Grenn, you know he doesn't want damaged goods."

"But she was fightin' me!"

"Wonder why," she said wryly, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't you git smart wid me, vixen!" then he bit his tongue when he realized who he had smart-mouthed.

She gripped his wrist hard and snarled. "Ex_cuse_ me? Are you a little low in the ranks to be mouthing off?"

Grenn said nothing and only stared at her in fear. She was not a vixen to piss off: one of the few females in the horde, and the only fox, she carried nothing but her throwing knives and was a fair shot with an arrow…but that's not what scared him…The gray vixen snorted and would have spat on him had Dinali not called her to his side.

"Tarian! Get over here!"

Tarian Rhan rolled her golden eyes and turned about to follow her leader. The mousemaid watched the vixen closely; of all the beasts in Dinali's horde, Tarian was the only one not afraid of him—at least visibly. And that bothered her. As a matter of fact, it bothered just about everybeast. Grenn even cursed under his breath and muttered the words "crazy vixen"…but there was fear behind those words.

No one knew the whole story, but what everybeast guessed that Tarian and Dinali went back a long ways. She was his first mate when he was still a ship's captain, and was easily his most trusted confidante. The mousemaid saw Tarian walk up to Dinali and stand just off to his side and hold a whispered conversation with the ferret before the door closed in her face.

Grenn dragged her down the subterranean passageway. Dinali's temporary quarters were old sea caves converted into make-shift living space until the fort about it on the top of the cliff was completed. Dinali seemed to prefer the darkness, so his personal quarters were far below in a large cavern.

Grenn brought her down to the cavern and passed by two rats on guard duty; the mousemaid didn't like the pitying looks they were giving her as she passed by. Finally she was led into the spacious quarters of the ferret leader, and thrown onto a carpet that covered the rough stone floor.

The weasel said nothing as he closed the heavy oak door behind him, and barred it from the outside. The mousemaid quivered. She was trapped.

* * *

Frey didn't like the way things were looking lately. The river otter could smell a change in the air that he didn't like. He sat outside his holt while the others sat inside and ate supper. He was on guard duty tonight, not that he minded, he was the odd otter out in this case.

He looked up and down the broad stream. No, it had gotten too quiet these days. The birds didn't sing as often, the woodlands around him had lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. This hadn't happened since he was a kit, quite a few seasons ago. he was still young, green so to speak, but it had seemed like so long ago when those pirates had come so far inland…his grandparents had not survived the attack, but somehow he and his mother were able to get out; Frey's father was not spoken of, and the otter had come to accept that.

What Frey refused to accept, however, was that he would have to pretend that nothing was amiss.

He sighed raggedly and stood straighter, resting only lightly on his javelin. He couldn't afford to look like he was lying down on the job…but as much as he wished he could ignore it…those trees, the birds, even the river itself seemed to be telling him that something was wrong.

* * *

Tarian sat outside her master's quarters and counted under her breath, "Three…two…one…"

"TARIAN!"

"…right on schedule," she sighed. She waited until the oaken door slammed open; Dinali held his paw and sucked in a breath as the cold cave air hit the open wound where the mousemaid had bitten him. Tarian sighed and shook her head.

"I warned you…"

"Shut it, vixen!" he snarled.

She smirked; she knew she'd won. How many times had she warned him…sooner or later, those slaves he kept asking for to use as "personal aides" would one day come back to bite him…literally. "What do you suggest I do?"

Dinali struggled to get his temper under control as blood dripped from the bite and onto the floor.

"I want her executed."

Tarian held back on a sigh, but she nodded and ordered two guards to arrest and imprison the mousemaid. She really didn't want to see another slave or horde member die. The punishment for attacking a horde member, or trying to escape, was obvious: death. Dinali preferred hangings in particular…because he liked messing with the corpses afterwards.

She suppressed a shudder and helped find bandages for her master.

* * *

"I still say you're an idiot."

Kyo rolled his amber eyes and refocused his attention on his quarry below him, the black fox and his fellow vulpine companion hidden in the leaves of the horse chestnut tree. They were cloaked by the darkness, yet Kyo's sharp eyes picked up more than enough… he pawed the hilt of his saber at his side in anticipation.

"There," he whispered. "See that chest they carry?"

"Kyo," his companion sighed. "How often have I told you…I'm not a _common_ robber."

"This isn't robbing, this is…"

"'Borrowing without permission and having no intention of taking it back'…" he finished. "Yes, one of your favorite quotes, if I'm correct."

"Ren, shut up."

Ren, a fox of brownish red and dark eyes, chewed on a dandelion stalk casually and looked over the proceedings below with a jaundiced eye. He straightened his cream-colored shirt and brown tunic, "What's so important about this particular venture of yours anyway?"

Kyo's eyes shone with greed. "That's badger treasure."

Ren almost choked on the stalk. "You're kidding? You're risking our lives for a fabled treasure? That's it…" he made a move to leave. "I want no part in this…"

Ren stifled a yelp as Kyo yanked him back by his brush. "Will you _shut it_? This will be easy…look, those hares have no idea we're here…this will be like taking a candied chestnut from a baby mouse."

"Open your eyes, idiot…they are _hares_…_Salamandastron_ hares!" Ren hissed. "And you are going to _steal_ from _them_?"

"That's the plan." He shrugged his shoulders and cracked his neck, and this made the other fox gag.

Ren was silent for a moment, looking between Kyo and the platoon of fighting hares, armed to the teeth and ready for any form of attack. Ren wasn't stupid…well, not entirely…but he knew that to try and steal from the badger lord of the Fire Mountain was as foolhardy as fighting one straight-out.

"It was nice knowing you, Kyo my friend…"

"What are you talking about? We're in this together…"

"Who's this 'we' you speak of?"

Kyo was quickly losing his patience—not that he had a long fuse to begin with. "I thought we agreed to stick together."

"That was one time…"

"I'm going after that treasure…and you are going to help me."

"Why do I get the feeling this will turn out bad?"

Suddenly below them, a hare let out a cry. Kyo and Ren froze, fearing they had been discovered, and then witnessed to their amazement as two score hares were attacked by a squad of vermin. Kyo could see mostly weasels, stoats and rats. No foxes. The black fox found that interesting.

The vermin fought tooth and nail, viciously, without restraint, and while the hares gave as good as they got, within minutes, the majority had been killed. The guerilla attack proved a success.

Ren looked confused. "Where have I seen those creatures before?"

Kyo set him a sidelong glance and whispered. "You know them?"

Ren looked closer, and then saw a marker on the sleeve of one weasel's tunic; he cursed. "Dinali."

The black fox sitting next to him cursed quietly. "Damn that ferret…"

"I thought he was still roaming the south…"

"Apparently he decided to move north," Kyo groaned. "Just great…there goes my plans…"

"Kyo," Ren whispered, "Don't you realize? With Dinali here, that means…"

"Hello Lorenzo."

Both foxes fell forward after feeling something heavy wham into the back of their heads, then there was nothing but darkness.

* * *

The mousemaid looked up long enough to see two larger shapes be thrown into her cell. One of them hit the opposite wall with a thud, then slid down to the floor. The other, still conscious, was unceremoniously deposited onto the floor, placed in shackles and viciously slapped before being left alone.

The mousemaid hid in the shadows and was able to see by the light of the first quarter moon that the two creatures were foxes. She trembled slightly, knowing that once they realized she was there…well, the guards wouldn't care what those foxes did to her—one less execution they had to worry about.

The one conscious fox, a brownish-red male in a brown tunic and homespun shirt, shook his head to get the cobwebs out, snorted to get dust out of his nostrils, and he looked almost comical… she hid a smile behind hercallused paws. The fox tried to scratch the back of his head, but the heavy iron shackles inhibited his movements. With a frustrated sigh, he leaned back against the cold stone wall of the dungeon cell and looked up at the ceiling, as if looking for a sign from above.

The other fox started to moan, and the shackled one looked over. "How you doin', Kyo?"

The dark shape against the wall muttered one word: "Lousy."

"I figured," the other one quipped.

The mousemaid watched as the black fox staggered to his feet then tripped, and finally cursed when he saw that his ankles had been shackled. "_Damn_ that ferret…"

The brown fox shook his head. "I should have never made a deal with him…"

The black fox looked up at his partner sharply. "You KNOW him?"

"Unfortunately…"

"Ren, why the hell didn't you tell me?" he asked, outraged, the rising bump on the back of his head not helping his mood.

"For the love of…" the fox called Ren groaned. "I'm a PIRATE, O Intelligent One…you think I _haven't_ run into him before? Besides, I'm a southerner, and so is he. We were bound to cross paths eventually."

"So you cut a deal with him. What was it?"

"Oh you know the deal—you've tried it before: promising a partnership, equal shares, blah, blah, blah, et cetera, you get the idea, been there, done that. Well, we found nice plunder one day, and I took the better share and ran off…and _fine_, I suppose I _did_ leave him for dead and…Kyo, why are you looking at me like that?" the smaller of the two sounded scared.

Indeed, the larger black fox looked ready to kill him. "You mean to tell me I got dragged into a dispute between you and _Dinali the damn Killer_!"

"You sound worried…you shouldn't be. He's really not that ruthless."

"Yes he is!" the mousemaid interjected, then gasped and slapped a paw over her mouth. Both foxes whipped their heads to look in her direction, startled to find they were not alone. Ren stood slowly, still sore from his own beatings. He walked over to her, and she shrank against the wall.

Ren got close enough to her to properly see her face; he smiled. "Hey, Kyo, it's a little mouse kid…"

"I am not a kid!" she snapped.

Kyo chuckled and Ren's surprised expression. "She's got spirit…I like that. But what's she doing in here? I would figure she'd be in the pen with the other slaves…"

"I'm like you," she answered quickly, "awaiting execution tomorrow at dawn."

"WHAT?" Kyo exploded. "_LORENZO_! WHAT IN _HELLGATES_ HAVE YOU GOTTEN US INTO?"

The brown fox cringed at the outburst then chuckled nervously. "Oh _right_…did I neglect to mention that stealing from Dinali means death?"

Kyo was seething, muttering under his breath, "Give me my saber, and you are a _dead_ fox…I'll skin you and wear your pelt and throw your damned guts to the _vultures_!"

Ren only chuckled and offered a paw to the mousemaid; she looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "What are you doing?" she asked him.

"I believe its called 'helping'…come now, if we're all going to die tomorrow, we might as well get to know each other."

Somehow, "getting to know each other" didn't sit well with her. Sure, they weren't even her species, but any males who had gone a long time without a female companion weren't picky. Then again…she looked at Ren again. He didn't look that bright; the black fox looked to be more of a threat.

"So what's your name, mousie?" Ren jokingly asked.

She debated whether she should tell them the truth, but, she figured it wouldn't have mattered if they were both going to be dead by midday.

"Tristyn," she said. "My name is Tristyn."

"_Tristan_?" Ren asked, completely misinterpreting her. "I thought that was a boy's name?"

"It can be a girl's name…much like Ren can be a girl's name," Kyo said with a wry grin. Ren flipped him a rude gesture and Kyo grinned ear to ear, knowing he'd won the argument. Tristyn couldn't help but smile at their antics. "So…you are pirates?"

There was no way this was _not_ going to be awkward. A normal mouse like her would never have dreamed she'd be sitting in a cell awaiting her own execution and speaking with two murderous foxes. But, nothing seemed to make sense anymore, so she shrugged and decided to roll with the punches.

The black fox shook his head. "Ren is, I'm just your friendly neighborhood thief."

"There's an oxymoron…" Ren muttered.

"Who are you calling a moron?" Kyo snapped.

"Oh forget it…"

The Black fox gave Tristyn a half-smile and shrugged, "Sure, we're violent, murderous, dangerous and _maybe_ a little insane—butwe're really nice once you get to know us."

"That's not very reassuring…" she pointed out.

"I'm working from scratch here, so cut me a little slack, will you? Ren, what the hell are you doing?"

Ren was trying to look through the barred window into the courtyard. "Huh…they're setting up a scaffold. Hey, Kyo! They're going to hang us!"

Kyo's tail bristled and his eye began to twitch. "_WHY_ do you sound _excited_ by this?"

Tristyn also looked at him like he'd lost it—although considering it was Ren, that should not have surprised her. Kyo looked at him worriedly, but the imposing silhouette of the gallows didn't help ease his nerves any more.

Yet Ren's pirate smile slowly grew. "I have a plan."

* * *

A/N: well, what do you think? Let me know. Read and Review! 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Warriors

Disclaimer: Redwall is © Brian Jacques and Redwall Abbey Company Ltd. I do not claim ownership of the series or of any original ideas of the author of the series. However, the characters Tristyn, Kyo, Ren, Frey, Dinali, Grenn, Osono Caden, Brynmor Caden, Deirdre, Sway, Anwen Caden and Tarian Rhan are of my creation and are not to be used without my permission. Basically, any character you don't recognize from the books belong to me.

Author's notes: I tried to give Michael an Irish accent, so sorry if you think he sounds Scottish.

* * *

Brother Augustus rose early at Redwall Abbey, as was his custom. The aging Abbey Recorder was long past the prime of his life, but by no means was he ancient. A dormouse of middle age, he had only just started to feel the pangs of arthritis in his joints, mostly his knees and ankles. Sister June in the Infirmary predicted that in a few more seasons, the Brother would not be able to walk. But he didn't worry about it. For now, he would live every day as normal as he could.

He slowly descended the stairs into Cavern Hole, leaning against the wall, and then rested at the foot of the staircase. His knees were bothering him lately…must be a storm coming. It was mid-spring, and the Naming Ceremony was upon them.

Another season already…Augustus shook his head. Hard to believe how quickly time passed. It seemed like he had only been a young wandering warrior a day ago…then it was as if he blinked and he was in the position he was in. Looking back, he couldn't believe how naïve and stupid he was. Ah, but that was the curse of youth. All that energy, and yet all that stupidity…

"Good morning, Brother Augustus."

He turned round and found himself presented with the Abbey leader, a squirrel named…

"Abbess Charity, good morning to you as well," he smiled graciously. Charity had been an exceptionally lovely maid, and still retained some of her elegance and poise despite her age, a fact Augustus had always admired. It wasn't easy to be in a leadership position, even a small one like he was used to. Yet Charity always acted as her name implied, and was a far cry from the saucy, sassy, wild maid of her youth. Sometimes though, he could still see a small spark in her eye…fleeting, but still there, almost entirely unnoticeable.

That spark was there that morning and her eyes smiled, though her face remained impassive. "You are up early this morning."

"I'm awake early every morning," he reasoned. "What would make this day so different?"

"Ah, your bones tell you of a storm soon?" she smiled slyly. "Mine as well. This summer should be a rough one for us."

"Storms and drought, you mean?" he asked as he walked beside her. She nodded.

"Carys was telling me earlier, and you know she's never wrong about things."

Augustus chuckled. "She's never wrong about the Dibbuns, that's for sure. Her predictions are most uncanny."

Charity smiled that secret grin of hers. "Truly our Badger Mother knows more than she lets on. Ah, there she is…Carys!" she called out.

Carys Seren was a middle-aged badger, who was never without her blue dress and cream-colored smock, which was spotless at the beginning of every day, yet working with Dibbuns quickly sullied it. The female badger was standing next to the door, looking out onto the abbey grounds, and when she spotted the mouse and squirrel, she placed a claw to her lips.

"Shh! Come, he's out here…"

"Who is?" Augustus wondered. Carys moved away from the Abbey door and let him peek through. The door was cracked open, and up on the wall tops, he saw the form of a young mouse silhouetted against the rising dawn.

"Michael," the Brother whispered. "What on earth is he doing up there?"

Carys shook her head. "He was standing up there when I awoke, looking to the west."

"He was doing that last night as well," Abbess Charity informed them. "I wonder…"

Augustus didn't. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Wait here," he told them. "I'll go talk to him."

The mouse reached the wall steps and carefully climbed them, his joints protesting. Finally he reached the top of the wall, and looked over at Michael.

Michael was a quiet, distant sort, an ordinary field mouse by anyone's standards. But his now-vacant expression belied the fact of his sharp mind and keen wit. He had been that the Abbey since he was adopted as a Dibbun. Deep in his heart, he knew he was not an Abbeybeast, a fact Augustus was despondent that he knew. Michael knew he didn't belong; the problem was he had nowhere else, no other group, to belong to.

He sighed, giving himself the faint feeling that his breath was caught on the wind, now wafting towards the west, were his brown eyes were trained. He ignored the sun rising at his back, leaning against the wall, both paws resting on the battlements. He felt the wind rustle his fur but paid little attention to it.

"Michael?"

He whirled around to find Brother Augustus standing there next to him, the older mouse huffing from his climb. Michael immediately moved to help, concern etched into his youthful yet strong voice, lightly accented.

"Brother Augustus! What're ye doin' up here? Ye know ye limbs give ye troubles."

Augustus huffed, "Fiddlesticks! I'm fine, now let me stand…ah…much better." He joined the other mouse in standing at the wall top, overlooking the plains and the surrounding woodland. Augustus took in a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I can feel the heat already."

"Hmm…" Michael hummed, barely paying attention. The elder mouse looked at him out of the corner of his eye, scrutinizing his reactions.

"Something about the west intrigues you?"

Michael's head whipped around to look at the Brother. "What makes ye say that?"

"Even a blind creature can see you are obsessed with it. You've been staring out over the abbey walls ever since you came here seasons ago as a Dibbun. Why is that?"

Michael didn't answer him, only sighed. Then he took in a breath, "Sometimes I think 'twas not meant for me t' be here…I'm an outsider. I don't belong."

It was as Augustus expected. "Ah, a wandering heart…"

"Brother," Michael turned his body slightly to face him. "Ye know 'ow I felt when Cedric left. I wanted t' go with him."

Augustus nodded. The summer prior, Cedric, Carys' son, had finally grown to adulthood, the young male badger deciding that the time had come for him to go and seek his own fortune. The badger had to turn poor Michael away at the abbey gates, before he hugged his mother, giving her and the rest of the abbey a tearful goodbye.

He had gone south. A sparrow flying north after spring returned to Mossflower gave them news of a great and powerful badger in the south…one they called Cedric the Blade. Apparently he'd made quite a name for himself as a warrior, vermin all over feared him, and his skill with his mighty sword. Carys had gushed and said how proud she was.

Michael wished fervently that he could have been there to see it all. He sighed angrily and pounded his fist onto the battlement. "Arg! I cannae stand t' be here anymore! I don't belong here, Augustus! My home is over the western sea, that's where I belong, not cooped up in some old stone building, withering away behind a desk an' a pair of reading glasses!" The minute he finished his rant, he bit his tongue.

Augustus simply gazed at him, his expression unreadable.

"Brother," the mouse tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, I dinnae mean…"

"No," Augustus said harshly. "I know exactly what you meant."

Michael hung his head with shame and Augustus shook his head. "You've got spirit, young'un, that I will admit. No, someone like you was never meant for the life as a member of our order. But you should learn to hold your tongue and control your temper…"

"…or 'twill get me intae trouble," he finished, having heard this speech before. He had an issue with his temper, he knew it. But he never knew why that was the case.

Augustus sighed. "If you are so intent, Michael…then I am giving you permission to leave after Name Day Celebrations…if you still want to leave, that is."

"I can't do that to Abbess Charity…or t' Carys…"

"It would be better you left. Michael, please understand, I am only telling you this because I want you to be happy. And you are not happy here." He turned around and started to walk down the steps. "Breakfast should be ready soon. And if I'm correct, we should be expecting company within the coming days."

"Who?" the young mouse asked eagerly as the elder walked away.

"Why, the otters of course! Skipper Herryk is bringing a troupe with him for the Name Day Celebrations. Mayhap you'll find yourself a kindred spirit…"

* * *

Mealtimes at the Holt were never boring; something Frey could have told anyone. He was off-duty that night, and sat inside the holt at one of the few tables for supper that evening. He sighed; he was tired, but not physically. He hated this feeling. He had done nothing productive all day, and yet he was exhausted. His mother had called it "tired from doing nothing", and as far as he was concerned, he could not understand how some creatures could simply be slothful and sedentary their whole lives without actually lifting a paw. Somebeast had told him once that there were creatures out there in the great wide world that were like that; he hadn't believed them.

He scratched under his chin and leaned heavily against the table. He didn't bother to look up when the other young males came into the den, whooping and hollering up a storm. He, like a good ten percent of the otter clan, was an unmarried otter, and unmarried males especially were expected to active duty as warriors for the clan. They were not even considered adults until marriage. Frey sighed; still a kit, and it didn't seem like that would change any time soon.

One male sat himself down next to him. This otter was grinning ear to ear, laughter in his eyes. He nudged his friend, "C'mon Frey m'lad! Why so glum? R'member wot yore Amma says…yore face could stick like that!"

Amma was the kind elderly otter who had taken care of Frey for many seasons; she was also considered the matriarch of the clan. Frey sighed and rolled his eyes. "Erek, I'm not in th' mood…"

Erek slapped a heavy paw onto his friend's slender shoulders, causing the smaller otter to slam into the table. "Yore ne'er in the mood, matey! Erm, Frey? You a'right?"

Frey coughed and sputtered. "Aye…fine…just fine, mate…" he was cut off by a loud shout from the cook, a plump fellow, with a scurvy disposition. The young otter males all turned to gaze hungrily at the two trays balanced on the cook's paws. He glared at them all, then sighed, resigning himself to what he figured was a fate worse than death: preparing food for a score of hungry and growing male kits.

Finally, the cook revealed his dish: fresh crawfish. The otter males whooped and hollered and the cook placed the first tray down. The two otters sitting at the end of the long table started taking individual crawdads and in their haste to serve their fellow otters, threw the shellfish down the length of the table. Soon the air was filled with crawfish being tossed here and there, the otters laughing and roaring. The cook shook his head,

"In me day, manners didn't cost much."

"In yore day, the sun 'ad'nt been lit," one cheeky male shouted.

"'Oo said that?" the cook roared. No one answered, but started tearing into the meal, feasting on the fresh trout that was passed around the table after the crawfish was "served", with fresh rye bread still steaming from the oven. Fresh-churned butter was smeared over the bread, and eaten straight along with the seafood as the otter warriors laughed and joked, telling embellished stories of their exploits that day. One young warrior named Ari was telling a rather crude joke to his four closest friends, all leaning in close to hear his hushed tones. Then they erupted into laughter at the punch line.

Frey largely ignored them, because they usually ignored him. He wasn't like any of them: he was scrawny, weak, and _worthless_. He looked up from his meal just as two more otters entered the den. Immediately, the younger otters stood and saluted their skipper.

Herryk Streamdog was an otter of average height, dark brown, and muscular, still in fit shape despite the fact he was past his prime. His wisdom as a leader was unparalleled, and though he looked like no threat, he had disproved that mistaken theory many times over on countless vermin.

Standing beside him was the only unattached male who was considered an adult in the holt. Frey gulped.

Magnus was huge. He was tall, well-equipped with muscular arms and firm, sturdy legs. He was the strongest swimmer, the most able warrior, and easily the most respected individual in the clan…despite the fact that many considered him extremely arrogant.

Herryk spread his arms wide and motioned for the males to sit, which they did in perfect unison. The Skipper cleared his throat.

"Lissen up, boyos, 'ard times are a'ead, an' we're lookin' fer a few good warriors…"

The youthful faces of the otters lit up with glee. Finally, their first battle! Magnus looked unperturbed, and Frey hated him for it. He hated all of them for it. The truth was, he was scared. Frey was not stupid, he knew what war meant; he had experienced it first-hand at a much younger age. He felt Herryk's eyes on him and he panicked; he often wondered if Herryk knew exactly what he was thinking…

"I wouldn't be so excited as ye all are…war is not a game. I've known too many mates perish in battle. Too many lives are ruined by it…only the strong survive."

At this, Magnus smirked. Frey wished he could have smacked that smirk right off his smug face.

"Nonetheless," Herryk continued, "I will be choosin' a select few o you lads t' journey t' Redwall. I received information from the Guosim th' other day…there's bad news afoot in Mossflower.

_Again_…Frey held back on saying it aloud.

"Aye, _again_…" Herryk sighed.

It was _scary_ how well that otter could read his mind…

"An' normally, that means Redwall's th' bloody target…erm, no pun intended. Tomorrer, I'll announce which o' you lads will be joinin' me and Magnus 'ere on th' journey. Ye'll be judged based on 'ow well you perform yore duties, fight, an' above all, 'ow well you lot obey orders. Right, that's all. Eat up, me 'earties, an' sleep well. But be ready to leave at daybreak, all o' you."

Frey turned his eyes away and back down at his barely-eaten food. He didn't know why he bothered sometimes. He wasn't going to be picked to go—what good could he possibly do?

Erek was called away from the table to speak with the Skipper. Frey frowned. Erek would definitely go—he was the Skipper's son, and unwritten law stated that the son would accompany the father on these kinds of missions. He watched out of the corner of his eye as father and son communicated in soft tones, and was interested when Erek's expression turned to one of surprise, then distress. Magnus, too, was looking a little worried.

What did it matter anyhow?

Frey finished his dinner and went to wash his plate and utensils. As he scrubbed away, he sighed again; he realized he'd been doing a lot of that lately. He had no chance of ever being counted as one of the greats. Nevertheless, that night before he laid down to sleep, he packed some provisions and used his knapsack as his pillow, as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

However, it seemed that the minute his head was laid down, he was jolted awake. It was dawn already, and the whole holt was awake. He joined his companions on the riverbank, awaiting their orders. He looked out at the crowd.

Mothers and children, and the unattached females in the holt, watched impatiently. A trio of young female otters giggled and pointed at various males, cooing and gushing over them. He frowned; they never would have looked at him.

"Frey!" a female voice called out. His head snapped up and he saw to his amazement…it couldn't be. He turned his head and looked about, but there was no one else looking her way.

Liv was Herryk's daughter, and Erek's younger sister. She was also, in Frey's opinion, the most beautiful otter he had ever seen. She was smiling warmly at him and waved. "Good luck!"

He waved back and almost smiled himself but for the sharp order to attention.

Herryk and Magnus reached the front of the line. Both otters were dressed in simple green tunics, already armed and ready for the journey. The otter chieftain held out his arms and encouraged everyone to be silent. The mothers of the young males were quivering with excitement, each one hoping their own would be chosen.

Herryk began, "I've made me decisions, an' I'm stickin' to em. Anybeast wif a problem can see me. Lets begin. Magnus, th' list." The taller otter handed him a piece of bark cloth, where names had been written in ink made from soot. The Skipper cleared his throat. "Th' Followin' 'ave been chosen t' accompany me to Redwall: Dag…"

On young male grinned wildly and almost whooped, had his self-discipline not been as grounded.

"Ari…"

The otter whooped, and then quieted down after Magnus sent him a glare.

"Brandi, Blyn, Fridleif, Geir, Haldan…"

The list went on, to name nine…

"…Aegir, Kelsig, and…lesse, who'm I fergettin'…ah yes…and Frey."

"WHAT?" his head snapped up. All eyes turned to him. Erek was gaping at him like the catch of the day. And so was Magnus. The tall otter asked his leader, "Are you certain that is wise?"

"'Course it is. th' lad's got a good 'ead on 'is shoulders. An' e's got great potential."

"Herryk," magnus argued. "Having 'potential' isn't going to help in battle!"

"He'll 'ave plenty of time to practice at th' Abbey," the skipper said firmly. "An' I'll arsk ye t' respect me judgment, Magnus…yore not the Skipper 'ere fer a reason. Remember that."

Directing his attention back at the ranks, he looked down into the disappointed faces of those who's names were not called…including his son.

"I've asked ye t' stay 'ere while we're gone: th' holt needs t' be protected at all costs, which is why I'm leavin' me son, Erek, in charge while I'm gone. Son," he said tenderly, laying a paw on his shoulder. "Make me proud."

"Always, Daddo."

Frey looked at his friend sorrowfully. Erek knew it was coming—his father must have broken the news to him the night before. still, Frey couldn't believe it: he was chosen to go!

He approached Herryk. "Erm…sir?"

"'Oo's 'sirrin' me?" the skipper asked. When he turned and saw frey, he smiled. "Ah…just the lad I wanted t' talk to. walk wif me, wouldja, lad?"

"Erm…" he sent a look to Erek, who encouraged him with a nod. "Sure, Skip."

Herryk led him down the bank, away from the main group, to have a private chat. They stopped at a calm place in the river and the otter chieftain picked up a smooth stone and flung it; it skipped five times. "I betcher wond'rin' why I picked yew." It was a statement, not a question.

Frey nodded numbly. "That'd be nice. Magnus is right though, wot do I 'ave to offer?"

Herryk handed him a pawful of skipping stones and took up some himself. "Don't let that blowhard git t' ye. 'e may be the best fighter, but 'e's got nothin' t' yew."

"How can you say that?" Frey asked angrily. "Wot about yore son? Wot about Erek?"

"Erek was not meant for war…'e's too…" the stone he was trying to skip failed and sunk to the bottom. "Too innocent," he finished. "Idealistic…'e wouldn't survive."

Frey hung his head; he felt guilty. He felt like he was stealing his friend's rightful place. He told this to Herryk, who shook his head.

"Yore not takin' anythin' from 'im. I discussed it wid him, an' 'e agrees to it. Besides, 'e was th' one 'oo told me t' pick you."

Frey's pebble flew the wrong way and bounced off a fallen tree trunk before plopping down into the water. "Wot?" he winced. He sounded like a hare!

"Aye…I told him I wasn't gonna let 'im come wid me…an' 'e recommended yew."

"WHY?"

Herryk smiled slyly. "Coz 'e said yew 'ad a good 'ead on yore shoulders, an' that yew were mature fer yore age. I don't need a bunch o' wet-be'ind-the-ears kits. I needed somebeast 'oo woz brave, realistic…":

"I'm not brave! I'm _terrified_ of war!" he argued.

"An' yet yore still goin'."

Frey said nothing, and suddenly seemed intently focused on the pebbles still in his paw. Herryk threw his last pebble and watched as it skipped three times then fell to the bottom of the river. "Frey, I ne'er knew yore father…I knew yore mother though…a right classic beauty, she was. I admit, I woz jealous when I 'eard she'd gotten married. But I'm glad at least that yew came out of th' bargain. I know their deaths woz 'ard on yew…"

Frey battled tears as flashbacks of that horrible night came flooding back. He shook his head to dispel them as Herryk continued.

"…An' ye were so young. Bringin' yew into me holt, me clan, as me own flesh an' blood…'twas the least I could do for Amora."

Frey bit his lip at the sound of his mother's name. His paw gripped the pebbles fiercely. This did not go unnoticed.

"Ye got the passion and the iron will, Frey. I can see that. One day, you'll be a great warrior…mayhaps better than Magnus."

Frey snorted. "Like _that_ will ever 'appen."

Herryk placed a comforting paw on his thin shoulder. "It will. Ye got th' strength inside o' you…ye just need t' find it." With that, the otter chieftain started to walk off, leaving him standing still at the river's edge, still holding the skipping stones in his paw.

Frey looked out at the river, watching meditatively as the water swirled around rocks, and as ripples formed where the water bugs landed. Angrily, Frey threw the largest pebble in his hand and watched as it made a significant splash. However he was not alone for long.

"The funny thing about pebbles," Liv said in his ear. Frey yelped and jumped back. She giggled. "Did I scare you?"

"No…No, you just…startled me. Yew…yew were sayin' somethin' about…pebbles?"

She nodded and took one from his paw and skipped it. "When they hit the water, they cause ripples. Look how calm the water is…" she threw in another, and Frey watched as the entire surface was disturbed. Liv smiled at him and pointed at the place where the stone dropped to the river bottom.

"See? One small thing can cause that much to happen. I have faith in you, Frey. I just wanted to wish you good luck." With that, she winked, grinned, then walked off, humming a shanty, and leaving Frey standing still on the river bank, wondering what had just happened.

He had one more pebble left. Nonchalantly, he flung it; it skipped six times.

* * *

A/N: hope you guys were paying attention. There's a lot of significance in the imagery in this chapter, and a lot of foreshadowing too. Can you tell who's majoring in English? 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Escape!

Disclaimer: Redwall is © Brian Jacques and Redwall Abbey Company Ltd. I do not claim ownership of the series or of any original ideas of the author of the series. However, the characters Tristyn, Kyo, Ren, Frey, Dinali, Grenn, Osono Caden, Brynmor Caden, Deirdre, Sway, Anwen Caden and Tarian Rhan are of my creation and are not to be used without my permission.

A/N: Ren calls Tristyn a very familiar name in this chapter, see if you can spot it!

* * *

Dawn broke over the north western sea coast, the sky a brilliant bright red, as if foreboding the deaths to take place that day. The gulls flew overhead, knowing that the sight of a gallows meant good pickings for them later. Sometimes the creatures below would just leave their dead to rot where they hung, and that meant food for the gulls…the creatures on the ground shuddered at the thought of such a fate. 

Kyo looked out of the barred window at the gallows in the direct center of the parade ground of the fort. He hadn't slept a wink that night, and neither had Tristyn. He had to admit to himself, for a mouse, she wasn't so bad. She was pretty smart, something he hadn't expected. Most of the mice he had encountered before were easily duped and so gullible they should have had it written on their foreheads. He nervously twitched and watched as Ren roused himself from sleep.

"How can you sleep at a time like this?" the black fox asked desperately, with a hint of annoyance. Ren only yawned loudly and cracked his back.

"All a part of my master plan..." he said, over-confident.

"It better be a good one," Tristyn said. "Otherwise we're gull food."

"Not to worry, Mini-mouse…"

"'_Mini_ mouse'?" she echoed.

"…My Master Plan is _fool proof_!" the brown fox continued, completely ignoring her.

Kyo had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Just the same, he began figuring out a plan of his own…just in case Ren's fell through.

Suddenly their cell door opened and four armed guards, two rats and two weasels, marched in carrying ropes in their paws. One of the rats roughly grabbed Tristyn and gripped her shoulder hard enough to wince. As she struggled in his grasp, Kyo felt a building rage inside him. How dare they treat _any_ female that way!

The two weasels grabbed him, took off the shackles at his feet and bound his wrists together in front of him. Tristyn and Ren were handled in much the same way, the rough hemp ropes tightly tying their wrists together.

"Move it!" one of the weasel guards said ordered, giving the black fox a shove in the direction of the door. Kyo stumbled a few steps but righted himself just as a rat guard took the lead, leading the prisoners towards the surface and the parade ground.

The initial sunlight blinded them for a moment, so used they were to the darkness of their subterranean cell. Tristyn felt her throat go dry with fear when she saw the one long beam where three nooses hung, ready for their necks. Kyo nudged her unnoticeably.

"Don't worry," he said through the corner of his mouth. "I'm working on a plan of my own."

"Shut yer face, fox!" a weasel guard backhanded him. Kyo made an effort not to show pain, but instead sent the weasel a glare. The black fox's yellow eyes glinted in the morning light, and the glare made him look almost demonic, as if his eyes were glowing; a shiver ran down the weasel's cowardly spine. Reacting quickly to hide his distress, the weasel shoved him forward again. "No talking! Now stir yer stumps!"

"Why do they always say that? Is that intended to be an _insult_?" he asked, reasoning that if he showed no fear, it would demoralize his captors. The weasel's temper only flared. "I said NO TALKING!"'

Ren took up the rear, Tristyn between the two foxes. The smaller fox, however, didn't seem too perturbed.

Dinali strode out onto the grounds, garbed in his favorite dark blue tunic, arm braces on his forearms and black cloak covering his slim shoulders. Tarian stood to his right and slightly behind, Grenn stood next to her on Dinali's other side. The ferret stood in front of the prisoners before they ascended the scaffold to their doom. He grinned maliciously.

"You all know why you're here…"

"I don't," Kyo interrupted, his eyes suddenly drawn to Tarian; she would have squirmed under his intensity had she not had the firm self-discipline. She merely gazed back at him, curious.

Kyo stared at the ferret. "I don't know why I'm here. I know the mouse attacked…one of your own," he wisely stated, knowing the temperament of warlords. "And Ren betrayed you…not to mention he took all your gold, left you for dead…if it makes you feel any better, I wish he was dead too."

"Traitor," Ren muttered.

Kyo shrugged. "Seriously, I only just ran into him yesterday…never seen him before in my life, on my word as a fox."

"That's not good enough," Dinali said. "I don't trust foxes."

"Ah, but there stands a lovely specimen of the vulpine species right behind you," he said, sugarcoating his words. Dinali just turned to give Tarian an incredulous look; she appeared as confused as he was. "Now if you wouldn't mind letting me go…"

"I don't think so," the ferret smiled dangerously. "You're still in cahoots with that scalawag…I have no choice."

Ren finally spoke up. "If I may have a word…before you kill me…"

Dinali sighed. "Whatever it is, Ren, its not going to help you…"

"Oh, I'm not helping myself…this is on behalf of Kyo, here. He's telling the truth—believe it or not. There's really no need to kill him—he's just an innocent victim."

Kyo almost laughed; "innocent" indeed…

Ren continued. "I just have one tiny little favor to ask…"

Kyo and Tristyn braced themselves. Whatever was about to happen, they both figured this was Ren's "Master Plan".

The smaller fox fell to his knees, holding up his paws imploringly. "PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!"

Tristyn's jaw dropped. Kyo was speechless. "THAT was your master plan!"

"Depends…did it work?"

"No," Dinali answered him, deadpan. Kyo just shook his head, not sure if he wanted to laugh at the absurdity, or cry at Ren's stupidity.

"I have just one small request," Kyo said. He cocked his head in Ren's direction. "Hang him first."

The ferret nodded, "Gladly."

"TRAITOR!" Ren roared. Kyo rolled his eyes and suddenly found Tarian Rhan standing in front of him. She scrutinized his appearance.

"Not bad," she said, "Had we not met under these circumstances, I might have invited you to join this horde."

"Madam," he said with charm, "the pleasure of knowing you, even for such a short time, is all worth it." Then he moved forward and captured her lips. She gasped and her eyes went wide. Suddenly recovering herself, she pulled away and slapped him, the sound of the strike reverberating across the field.

She pointed at him. "Hang HIM first!" she ordered, still flustered from his impromptu sign of affection. Then Kyo was roughly dragged over to the gallows, Tarian glaring daggers at him, while Dinali and Grenn simply stood there, momentarily speechless…

The gallows was simply nothing more than a beam between two wooden columns, with three ropes slung over the top beam. Three large barrels stood upright, and Ren guessed that when the time came, the barrels would be kicked out from under them. It was crude, but it would do the trick. Ren noticed inconsistencies, however, in each noose. This made him curious, but he didn't have long to ponder about it as he was roughly dragged up a ladder to stand on the barrel. The rat guard placed the noose around his neck and Ren saw through the corner of his eye as the same happened to Kyo, on his left, and to Tristyn, who was on Kyo's other side.

"I hope you realize the significance of each noose, Ren," Dinali taunted. "Each one was made differently, as you've probably noticed."

"I have," he admitted. "Though I'm not sure why."

The ferret smiled sadistically. "I had them made to suit the crime. The mousemaid's noose was intended to hang her so that she would suffocate, rather than have her neck broken…"

Tristyn bit back on a sob, a lump of fear forming in her throat.

"Yours, Ren, is a thinner rope, shorter than the rest, and once that barrel is kicked away, the rope will sever your head."

Kyo muttered a curse.

Dinali's eyes roved over to the fox standing in the middle. "As for your friend here…I've decided to be merciful. He gets a normal, run-of-the-mill rope, so his neck will be broken and he'll die instantly, no pain at all."

"Should I be _relieved_ by that statement?" Kyo offered.

"Shut it, you."

"Yessir."

Tristyn quietly asked her fellow prisoner, her voice pitch high and tight with fear, "Any ideas?"

Kyo muttered back, "Working on it."

Dinali stepped back, as did the rest of the horde present that day. He grinned wolfishly at Ren, who gulped—the fox was not keen to having a rope sever his head from the rest of his body…he rather liked having everything attached.

Kyo, however, didn't look too worried. One sidelong glance to Tristyn told her all she needed to know. She stood taller on the barrel, puffed out her tiny chest, and took a deep breath as if awaiting the deep plunge.

Once he was a fair distant away (to apparently avoid the blood splatter from Ren's off the cuff beheading), the ferret warlord raised his paw into the air. The guards standing next to the barrels made themselves ready to kick them away. A drum roll sounded, and Kyo saw his chance.

He quickly made his move, severing his bounds with the knife he had taken off of Tarian when he had kissed her. His freed paws gripped his noose and he tore it off his head, then swung from the rope to his left, slashing Tristyn's noose with one swipe, the sharp blade easily cutting through the hemp rope. As he swung back, he threw the blade at Ren's rope, cutting the thin twine easily, the knife then burying its point into the wooden beam next to the other fox's head.

The corsair fox grabbed the knife and started slashing at the bonds on his wrist as Kyo jumped down and laid out one of the guards with a punch to the face. He then grabbed the sword from the same guard, running him through the chest. Putting his foot on the dead guard's chest for leverage, he quickly pulled out the weapon and proceeded to face the other two.

Dinali couldn't believe his eyes. It took him a minute or two for him to realize what was happening before he ordered. "Don't just stand there, GET THEM!"

More guards moved in to rescue their comrades, and Kyo cursed. He was having an issue fighting off the two executioners, until Ren jumped down and on top of one, another rat, swiftly grabbed his knife, and slit his throat. The corsair then commandeered the dead rat's cutlass and helped Kyo bring down the last one. There was no need.

Tarian's knife flew past their faces and buried itself in the weasel's chest. Both foxes turned round and saw Tristyn, now freed of her ropes, snarling like a maddened beast. "What are you waiting for? Get out!"

Ren and Kyo shared a look. Without even saying a word, they made a decision. Ren grabbed Tristyn and flung her over his shoulder as she kicked and screamed, "Put me down!"

"Nice try, Mini-Mouse."

Kyo saw the horde moving in and cursed. "Come on! This way!" he began running in the opposite direction, sword still in hand. Ren followed suit, his desperation and will to live giving him an extra burst of energy.

Kyo ran towards the battlements, to the ladders that were coincidentally right next to the slave pens. The tired and heavily mistreated slaves watched in astonished awe as the would-be deadbeasts dashed up one ladder to the as yet unfinished battlements. Kyo was the first to get there and looked over the side. There was nothing but sharp rocks at the bottom.

"Great."

Ren, however, was looking in another direction. With Tristyn still slung over his shoulder, he pointed to the east wall. "Over there! See that sycamore?"

"Are you insane? There's no way we can make that!"

"You never know until you try…" Ren started to run. Kyo groaned and cursed vehemently as he saw the horde begin to climb the ladders, and he dashed after Ren. When both foxes and their companion made it to the other side of the fort, Ren judged the distance. "We can make it! When I tell you, jump!"

"What?" Kyo panted.

"JUMP!"

They both reacted quickly, jumping up onto the battlements and throwing themselves off.

They were lucky the tree was so close to them. Ren caught the closest branch, whereas Kyo fell a short distance, but latched onto a branch further down. Once he righted himself he called up to Ren.

"Hurry! They might be stupid enough to try it!"

"Hold on…" Ren took Tristyn off his shoulder and looked her square in the eye. "Do you trust me?"

Her first instinct was to say no, but necessity called for compliance. She nodded.

"Good. Kyo, catch!" He let Tristyn fall. She yelped with surprise and Kyo caught her in his arms.

"It's alright, Miss Mouse, I got you," he said as he began to climb down. He was not a strong climber: he may have had a fluffy tail, but he was no squirrel. Closer to the forest floor, he and Ren merely slid down the tree trunk, then just as quickly dashed out into the woodlands on the eastern side of the fort, disappearing into the undergrowth.

When Dinali got to the battlements near to the sycamore, all he saw of the foxes was the last glimpse as they disappeared into the forest. Two of his own fighters tried to make the jump and failed miserably, meeting their fate with a sickening thud on the forest floor. The ferret snarled with anger, the dawn a silent witness to his rage.

Tarian and Grenn were still on the parade ground. Both shared a nervous glance, and silently agreed to stay away from their leader for the rest of the day.

* * *

They had kept running for quite a distance until they reached the place where Ren and Kyo had been captured the night before. The two foxes and escaped slave leaned against a tree, panting, exerted and out of breath. 

"I can't…believe…we did it…" Kyo breathed.

"I…can't believe…it worked!" Ren laughed.

Tristyn suddenly laughed. "I can't believe I'm _free_!" she suddenly turned to them. "I never thought I'd say this to creatures like you…but thank you."

Kyo offered a small smile. "Our pleasure."

"But why did you help me?" she asked, puzzled. "You could have left me where I was."

The foxes exchanged a glance. Ren said, "You know, I don't know."

"I suppose," Kyo reasoned. "Maybe our ethics finally came back."

"Not mine," said Ren.

"Ren, you never HAD ethics."

"This is true," he admitted.

Tristyn stood and dusted herself off. "Well…either way, I thank you. Now I should go…"

Kyo stopped her, gently grasping her wrist, which was bruised and scratched by the rough rope. "Where are you going? You…" he chuckled. "You think we're just going to let you leave?"

"What are you saying?" she asked, suddenly on guard.

"Aye, Kyo, what _are_ you saying?" Ren asked. Tristyn's earlier predictions about this fox proved true: he really _wasn't_ that bright at all.

"Ren, we can't let her go…she'll be out there, all by herself, unarmed, no food, cold, lonely…" he looked down at her. "She needs to be with her own kind. And with Dinali still here…you know how he is. He'll send his horde out looking for her. For _us_!"

"So what do you suggest we do? Hells teeth, fox, look at her!" he swung his arm to indicate her. "She won't be safe traveling with us! We're hardly baby mice out picking daisies on a summer's day! We're dangerous criminals too!"

"She needs somebeast to protect her!" the black fox argued.

"Since when do you care?" Ren pointed out. "You're a thief, a scalawag, you'd rob her blind if she _had_ anything! Why are you suddenly caring about what happens to _her_?"

"That's _none_ of your _damn business_!" he yelled. His outburst and extreme temper flare silenced the corsair. It took a minute for the black fox to calm himself down.

"Look, I'm not letting you out there alone," he said to her quietly. "You just escaped Dinali the Killer. He'll come out looking for you. You obviously can't stay here and hide in these woods because he'll find you. And you can't stay with us…he'll be after our heads too. Now, I don't care what happens to me…"

"I care!" Ren said nervously.

Kyo ignored him, "…But I'm not going to let anything hurt you, Tristyn. All right?"

She didn't know what to say. She couldn't remember a time when someone had cared about her safety so much. Something screamed that this wasn't right, this fox should not give a rat's tail what happened to her. But for some reason, a little nagging voice in the back of her head told her to trust him. She nodded.

"Then where do I go?"

Kyo's eyes brightened suddenly. "The mountain…" he breathed. "That's it!"

"What?" Ren asked. "Oh no…oh HELL no! I am NOT walking up to that mountain!"

"Why not?"

"There's a whole mountain full of fighting hares and three damn badgers! Why the hell should I want to go near there? Any vermin, like us for example, who go there, end up dead one way or another!"

"Exactly!" the black fox pointed out. Tristyn caught on immediately, "You mean you're going to escort me to Salamandastron?"

Kyo nodded. "That's the plan."

"Are you mad?" she asked him seriously. "Should any of those hares see you two, you'll be killed on sight!"

"I'll risk it," he said.

"I won't," Ren said, and started to walk away. Kyo grabbed his tail and yanked him back.

"You're not going anywhere! Except to the Fire Mountain…"

"Forget it! You wanting to rob those hares last night was foolhardy, I'll admit. But you're talking about walking right up to their bleedin' front door!"

"Sure, it sounds like suicide now, but," he turned his attention back to her, "if we get you as far as the seashore right in front of it, we'll let you go the rest of the way, just to make sure Dinali doesn't win."

"But there should be a couple conditions," she pointed out.

"Well of course," Ren said sourly. "We'll be traveling with a female, there are some things that need to be discussed. Granted, you're not a vixen…unlike that lovely specimen back at the fort…rowrr!"

"Ren," she said, "Focus."

"He's right though," Kyo said. "We'll need some ground rules…"

The brown fox only said, "The only rule we need: don't touch her."

The mousemaid and black fox shared a look, then shrugged. "Alright, we'll go with that."

"So how far is this place?"

"About a week's march," Kyo answered.

"A week?" Ren asked. "A week with no food, no weapons, and vulnerable to the elements?" he looked ill.

Tristyn rolled her eyes at him. "It's better than what I was facing," she pointed out. "Death under the whip, death by execution, or slavery to Dinali's pleasure…"

Both foxes convulsed, both looking nauseous. "That depraved son of a…"

"Oy, the least he can do is get some beast of his own species!"

Tristyn tried to block it out of her mind. In Dinali's chambers, when he mentioned the words "personal aide", she knew exactly what he meant; she may have been young and innocent, but she was not stupid. He wanted her…that thought alone nearly made her sick. But the ferret had a sick mind, and she supposed that he would have done it to any beast he came across…males and females alike.

She allowed herself to be led by Kyo through the forest. The trio was still on-edge after their daring escape and knew they needed to get as far as possible before the ferret found them again.

* * *

Dinali was in a dangerous mood, and had been all day. The ferret had mortally wounded a few of his own soldiers in his rage, and then locked himself in his quarters for the remainder of the day. The guards left him alone, unsure of what he was doing or planning, but then not wanting to know, either. 

Grenn had wisely kept the slaves in their pen all day, telling them they were lucky for their day of rest, but ordering them to work harder the next day: Dinali would not be a happy warlord when he found out nothing had been done the previous day. Tarian Rhan had ordered Grenn to keep the slaves locked up for their own safety. After witnessing what her master did to his own soldiers, she decided it was better that there was a day of little to no work and risk the safety of slaves, than to have a few—or all—of them killed, and then having to waste energy to capture more.

She didn't like "slave runs". In fact, she hated them. It was a waste of time to her, so she figured that if she treated the slaves with the slightest bit of mercy that would be enough incentive for them to say. She was naïve in that respect.

She watched as one-by-one, each slave fell asleep, huddled against one another on beds of straw, no blankets to cover them. Grenn double-padlocked the gate to the pen, stowing the keys, that hung on a chain around his neck, inside his tunic for safekeeping. He nodded his head to her and they slowly walked around the parade ground.

"Th' Master will be none too happy tomorrer," Grenn considered.

"'None too happy' doesn't even begin to describe it," she said harshly. "Our tails are seriously on the line, here."

"Aye," he agreed. "Did the search parties come back yet?"

She nodded. "As expected, they're gone. Our best trackers couldn't pick up their trail past the point where those Long Patrol hares were attacked last night."

"None o' them hares were left alive, of course."

"Of course…but what bothers me…" she paused, and then tried to find the right words to describe it. "Why would those foxes help that mouse?"

"Probably th' same reason Dinali wanted 'er."

Tarian scrunched up her nose in disgust, but said nothing that would have been considered treachery. Dinali was a suspicious one, and had spies all over. The creature standing next to her could have been an informant, but she knew that Grenn was too stupid for that.

"Unless those foxes thought they could use her as a bargaining chip…"

"If'n ye don't mind me sayin' so, Miz Tarian…" Grenn smirked. "I'd be guessin' yer more int'rested 'bout that one black fox than anythin' else. YIPE!"

Tarian had grabbed Grenn by the front of his tunic and slammed him into a pillar. "Lets get one thing straight, weasel," she snarled. "Neither of them mean anything to me, GOT THAT?"

He had never seen her so furious. He only gulped. "Y-yes'm."

She released him then stalked over to her quarters, which coincidentally were not far from Dinali's. Tarian threw herself onto her pallet and tried to sleep…but was continuously visited in her dreams by a black fox with startling amber eyes…

* * *

Someone else was dreaming that night, far, far away from the vermin's fort, across the land, past the forests…to a mountain fortress situated by the seashore. A creature lay tossing and turning in her sleep, bed sheets wrapped around her like a cocoon, her fur and bedclothes disheveled. In her mind's eye she saw images of pain and suffering, war and fire devouring all in its path. She could see dark, dangerous creatures, and a beast slashing at another beast with a knife! 

She shuddered in her sleep. That knife seemed so much more sinister than she had thought. She felt a dead weight and overwhelming despair…but then she saw hope, coming from three points of the compass rose…the west brought nothing but pain, but help was coming closer…

She saw quite vividly a night sky and six stars shining brightly above her head. Three stars came from the north, with darkness hounding their way…two stars from the east, and one from the south...all coming closer…converging onto one point.

She shot up in bed, wide awake. She sought to calm herself and her mind, which was now racing with a million different thoughts. Slowly, she rose from her bed and looked out her window at the wide ocean before her. She sighed. What on earth did this all mean?

* * *

A/N: As always, PLEASE Read and Review! thank you:) 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Renegades

Sorry it took to long to get this out. School's been cutting into my time. I should learn to manage time better…

Disclaimer: Redwall belongs solely to Brian Jacques. I'm only borrowing his little world for my own creative musings.

* * *

Frey took in a sharp breath when he first spotted the abbey through the trees. He nudged the otter marching beside him. "Ari, is that really Redwall?"

Ari, a light-brown stringy male, shrugged his narrow shoulders. "I'm s'posing so, matey. It's got red stones, so's I'm a-thinkin' it's the abbey, alroight."

"Its huge…"

"As it should be," Dag said, directly in front of them in the line. "Considerin' th' number o' times it's been attacked or under siege…I dunno 'bout you buckos," he turned back to look at them, "but I 'opes it don't come t' war."

Ari heckled him, "What'sa matter, mate? 'Fraid of a couple o' vermin?"

"It's never just 'a couple 'o vermin'," Frey said quietly, the cryptic edge in his voice not lost on the two otters. Ari shut his mouth at a glare from Dag; Dag himself didn't know the whole story, but from what little he knew, the otter figured he didn't want to know. If he needed to know, he certainly wasn't going to force Frey to talk.

"Herryk's been quiet today," Kelsig, Dag's marching partner whispered. "Wonder wot th' problem is?"

Dag was curious as well, but he hissed back, "Stow that talk! If 'e 'ere's yew, it could get us in trouble."

Kelsig just shrugged and carried his javelin straighter, stiffening his grip on the simple weapon. "Just a 'armless question. Ye think 'e's expectin' a war?"

"Heavens, I 'ope not," Dag sighed.

Frey was watching Dag closely; the elder otter's usual sunny disposition has disappeared as if a dark cloud had passed over him. Now that he thought about it, a dark cloud seemed to pass over all of them. They had been marching for nearly four days, not much of a trek, and certainly in the neighborhood of the abbey, but there were otter clans closer to the great redstone building.

There was the Greyback clan, led by Skipper Gris, from the southern part of Mossflower, and then there were the Greenstones, led by the head Skipper of the Mossflower otter tribes by the name of Finn. Any otter clan living within the Mossflower woods were all members of that nation, divided into individual clans, with a different tattoo marking their adherence. Frey was born into the Red-River clan, and had a mark on his left shoulder of three wavy lines in red, and since he was now a member of the Wide River otters, he sported Herryk's mark: the rough image of an arrow wrapped around his upper arm; his mother Amora had been one of the Wide River otters, and married into the Red-Rivers. Of his father, Frey knew next to nothing. Had he been killed? Deserted? Banished? Every time he thought about it, he was certain that he had no father for a good reason: something dishonorable had been done…

Disgrace or not, when he was barely seven seasons, Frey had lost what little he had already had. All because of one creature's greed…

And now here he was, marching off to war. What was he doing? What was he even thinking? This was lunacy! What did he know of fighting? He was weak, small, and puny compared to the others in the party who towered over him. Dag was easily the tallest, a hairsbreadth shorter than Magnus.

That seemed suspicious to him. Why, if there were otter clans closer to Redwall, were they currently en route to it now? The whole thing didn't sit well with him. Was this what Herryk meant when he said he had a good head on his shoulders? Or that he was realistic?

Frey scoffed silently. Realistic indeed…he was just being paranoid.

At the front of the column, Magnus called a halt. They hid themselves in the foliage at Herryk's direct orders. The otter chieftain and his compatriot exchanged observations at something beyond Frey's sight, followed by a short yet heated argument, Herryk winning out over the younger otter. The elder turned his attention back to the troupe and nodded his head in the direction of the abbey.

"Let's move in."

* * *

Michael stood on the wall tops standing next to Brother Augustus, as was now their custom. Both mice were looking out over the western battlements at two warrior bands making their way up the path. Michael narrowed his eyes against the bright noonday sun.

"Otters? What are they doin' here?"

Augustus shrugged his thin shoulders. "Possibly here to enjoy the festivities with us," he figured. "The Skippers have never been known to miss good old Redwall fare."

"Then why do they come with weapons?"

Augustus' brows furrowed. "What?"

Michael pointed. "There! Ye can see the sun glinting off th' spears."

Augustus didn't like this at all. "Go get the Abbess."

* * *

Once they were let into the Abbey, Skipper Herryk met Skipper Gris in a good old-fashioned brotherly hug. Gris was a tall brawny otter with a grey-brown pelt that he had sported since he was a kit. Most of the Greybacks had grayish fur, hence their namesake. They were on the small side for otters, but they were well renowned for their skills in espionage and guerilla tactics.

"Herryk, yew ole streamdog!" Gris grinned and laughed heartily. He and Herryk almost managed to crush each other in the tight hug; this competition was normal for them, and had been for many seasons.

Herryk ruffled his friend's fur and held him at arm's length. "Yew streamwalloper! Look et ye! Packin' on the pounds there, mate!" he said jokingly. Frey thought he must have lost his mind: Gris was the perfect definition of fitness.

"Not pounds, matey," Gris said, flexing his arms. "Muscles!"

"Don't yew ever grow old?"

" 'Course I do! Growin' old is mandatory…"

"Growin' _up_ is voluntary!" they chorused, then laughed at their own joke. They were silenced by a glare from Carys Seren, as she stepped outside the gatehouse, paws on her hips.

"So…I suppose you think you can just show up out of the blue and expect us to feed you, eh?"

The otter chieftains shared a look then both nodded. "Yep."

Carys chuckled good-naturedly. "Ah me…I can never stay mad at you two! You make it so hard to dislike you!"

Frey stood back and almost bumped into Kelsig who was standing behind him. The other young otter stood transfixed as well. This was the first badger they had ever seen.

Carys turned her attention to Herryk's team; she nodded curtly at Magnus. "I see you're back. How was the battle with those searats along the coast?" Carys braced herself; Magnus was a well-known boaster. Calling him a liar would have not been proper hosting…even if that was what he was.

Magnus puffed out his barrel of a chest and said proudly, "No problems at all, marm! Those corsairs ne'er knew wot 'it 'em!"

Carys wasn't impressed, even a blind beast could have seen that. Frey liked her already. Then something small plowed into him, knocking him down. The otter lay there, humiliated, as Magnus started laughing. Ari chuckled, but it was Dag who helped him up. Frey felt another paw grasping him firmly, and he got a good look at his "attacker".

"Sorry about that, mate," Michael said. "Heh…erm, I tripped."

"Indeed, Master Michael," Carys said harshly. "And what, pray, were you doing up on the wall tops this time?"

Michael's own face flushed just as Augustus stumbled down the stairs. "Easy, Carys, he was assisting me…I was curious about our otter friends here…"

"As am I."

All eyes turned to the Abbey door as Charity glided outside into the sunlight. Shielding her eyes from the glare, she grinned. "Herryk, Gris, I thought that was you!"

Both chieftains rushed over and swept her up in a tight hug.

"Charity, you just grow more lovely with age!" Gris proclaimed.

" 'Ow 'ave yew been, ole friend?" Herryk asked as they set her safely on the ground again. She rubbed her wrists. "My bones are starting to show their age, but besides that, I have been the same as always. But look at you two! All dressed up for war, when there is no war about!"

Herryk and Gris exchanged a nervous look. Charity caught on immediately. "Friends, what is wrong?"

Herryk said, "I think we should wait until my cousin gets 'ere. Then we'll explain everything."

* * *

The third Skipper, called Finn, the Leader of the Otter Nation of Mossflower, arrived shortly before supper that night. He and his crew of fifty quietly entered the grounds and deposited their weapons at the door as Gris and Herryk had also ordered their crews to do.

Inside, the visitors were met with the most rewarding and wonderful smells, courtesy of the Abbey kitchens. Large pans of bread were carried past them, the bread still steaming from the oven. Traditional food of the moles and shrews also festooned the tables with ripe fruit and fresh strawberries, bright red and bursting with juices. Vegetable pasties vied for attention amongst the soups and stews of various woodlanders visiting for the Nameday celebrations.

Michael had been instantly fascinated with the otters, and begged permission to sit amongst them at the table. The otters from the Wide River tribe welcomed him heartily, feasting on Hotroot soup, rye bread, fresh watershrimp, and a fine trout. Michael wasn't accostumed to eating fish, but found he liked it as much as the otters did. He found himself sitting next to a smallish otter, one that the others called Frey. For a reason he couldn't quite place, Michael was drawn to this otter, who kept sending him odd looks out of the corner of his eye.

After spending an hour in silence, and catching Michael's numerous interested glances, Frey finally sighed, put down his utensils and said, "Look, matey, could ye stop doin' that? Yore makin' me uneasy…"

Michael stared at him, scrutinizing his features. "Sorry."

"No yore not."

"Alright, I'm not."

The two of them stared at each other, unblinking, until simultaneously, they sputtered, then burst into laughter. Frey's cheeks hurt him suddenly and as he raised his paw to nurse his aching cheeks, a thought crossed his mind…wait…was he actually smiling? He was…he couldn't remember the last time he had smiled.

The mouse was the first to extend his hand. "I'm Michael, I've lived 'ere me whole life."

"Frey," the otter answered, shaking the mouse's paw. "This is me first time being 'ere. Is it always this lively?"

Michael groaned and rolled his eyes. "I wish! Its so boring, I wish I was a warrior like you."

"Oh, um…" Frey stuttered. "I'm…I'm not really a…"

"But ye carry weapons," Michael insisted. "That must mean ye know how t' fight, right?"

"Well, sort of…"

"Ye mean ye can't?"

Frey said nothing and just returned to eating. Michael nudged him. "Sorry, I didn't mean t' hurt ye feelings, but seriously, can ye fight?"

Frey was suddenly losing his patience very quickly with this mouse. "Do yew want me to show yew wot I can do?"

Michael only nodded, a smile growing on his face. Frey looked across the table at Dag and Kelsig, sending them a look that begged for a rescue. The two otters pretended they hadn't caught it. Resigned to this, Frey sighed and said to Michael, "Grab s'more food…an' I'll show ye wot I know…"

* * *

"You call that a parry?" Michael joked. "That was pathetic!"

Frey kicked his foot out and tripped Michael, laughing as the mouse hit the ground. "Diversionary tactic, matey. My friend Erek taught me that move."

"Not bad," a voice said behind him. Frey turned round and saw himself looking up into the face of one of the Skippers. The otter was about a head taller than himself, Frey reckoned, sleek brown fur from head to toe. Frey nervously smoothed out some of his own fur; he had always been pretty scruffy, and hated it.

Finn walked up to him. "Ye ever used a sword before?"

Frey stammered. "Er, um…no sir."

Finn beckoned both of them over. "Yew want to learn?"

The eyes of both mouse and otter lit up, although Finn swore he saw a sort of nervousness in the young otter's eyes. "What's yore name, matey?"

"Erm, Frey, sir. It's Frey."

"An' I'm Michael," the mouse introduced himself once Finn's gaze shifted to him. "I know who you are," the mouse said admiringly. "Yore Finn, the one they call the Slayer."

Frey looked back up at him, suddenly star-struck. He had heard many stories from Herryk of the otter warrior he had known since youth called Finn the Vermin Slayer. This otter standing before him had proved time and time again how worthy he was, how strong he was, how righteous…Frey almost grinned wickedly at the thought of him and Magnus going up against each other in a sparring match. That would have been very enjoyable to watch.

Finn picked up a long stave and snapped it in half over his knee. He handed both of them one half each. "Show me wot you know, an' we'll work from there."

Michael grinned and so did Frey…albeit nervously. The mouse and otter took to their fighting stances, and Finn stopped them immediately. "Frey lad, shift yore weight so that it's distributed evenly…that's it. Michael, 'old the stave like a sword, both paws on the hilt. There we go. Nice firm grip. Now…go!"

The two sparred off, the clapping sound of wooden stave on wooden stave echoing off the abbey walls. Frey found himself defending more than fighting back, but when he looked out the corner of his eye, he saw Finn watching him closely, the older otter stroking his whiskers thoughtfully.

Frey wasn't about to make a fool of himself in front of this mighty warrior—heaven knows he did that enough back home—so he started paying more attention. Michael's movements were fast…but clumsy. He had his guard down, not protecting his middle.

That was when Frey took his stave and swung an arch to the side, tapping Michael's left side.

"Hold!" Finn called. Frey and Michael stopped immediately, the mouse gaping at the stave that had struck him on his side. Finn calmly walked over to them, clapping his paws and smiling. "Well done, lad! Ye did th' smart thing," he said to Frey.

Frey blinked. "I…I did?"

"Aye, ye did," Finn pointed at Michael, and the mouse watched and listened carefully. "Ye see wot 'e did, mouse?"

"Aye I did…ye wore me out, mate," Michael gazed at Frey in awe.

"Exactly," Finn said. "Yew wore 'im out, a good thing fer a beginner t' do, cuz once yore opponent gits tuckered out, 'e makes mistakes, an' plenty o' 'em t' boot."

Frey was looking at the older otter with awe. The first thing he noticed now was that Finn was…shorter, than he had thought. And by most creatures' accounts, Finn would also be considered…dare he say it? _Puny_ for an otter… At least compared to giants like Skipper Gris and Magnus, who were almost as tall as badgers, it had been said… But Frey was taken aback by the almost depressed look in the leader's eyes as he looked down at him. Frey took a cautionary step back which Finn noticed.

"Relax, lad, I don't bite…"

"Finn!" someone called him. The elder otter turned round and saw Carys Seren motioning him to come to the gatehouse. He sighed. Delivering this news wasn't going to be easy. But he looked back down at Frey, this young and skinny otter lad, who didn't appear to have more than sixteen seasons on him. Finn placed a firm paw on the smaller otter's shoulder.

"Keep practicin'. Soon, you'll be a great warrior." With that, he turned and walked towards the Gatehouse, leaving Frey staring at his retreating back, eyes narrowed…like he was trying to remember something long forgotten…

* * *

"A _WHAT_?" Charity nearly exploded. She, Carys and the three otter chieftains were gathered in the gatehouse for a private meeting. Finn coughed into his paw and cleared his throat.

"Aye, we spotted 'em when we was passing the ford," he explained. "A horde o' vermin, mostly rats, led by a couple foxes."

"An odd combination," Carys mused.

"Though not impossible; remember the Marlfoxes?" Charity asked her friend. Carys nodded slowly. "Vaguely…I remember being told about them when I was a maid here at the abbey school. But we're veering away from the point. Finn, are they coming any closer to here?"

"I 'opes not, but by my scouts' guesses, they were headed west, towards the coast."

Charity pursed her lips in thought. "This doesn't sound right," she said. "Why would a horde simply bypass us? History has shown that a horde of vermin is more than likely to attack once they lay eyes on us. The whole 'Redwall treasure', the 'mystic magic sword', and other such nonsense is what brings them..."

"But e'erybeast knows 'bout Redwall," Gris interjected. "An' vermin ain't as stupid as they used t' be…well, not entirely," he added at the cynical look from Carys. "They still believe that this is a place of great magic, but the other side o' th' leaf is that they also think this place is cursed."

Carys made a disgusted noise and shook her head. "Vermin…"

"But Finn," Charity implored, "Do you think they present a threat to us?"

"Abbess, marm," he began. "If I thought those rats and foxes were _relatively_ 'armless, I woulda stayed where I was. Any sightin' of a horde—e'en a small band—of vermin, is usually a bad sign of things to come."

Charity took in this news gravely. "And us without a Warrior…"

Herryk spoke up, "Charity, we've all been through this before, all five o' us. I a'member when we was as young as those buckos back inside," he pointed his thumb over his shoulder back at the abbey, indicating Frey and Michael, who had stopped to play with some Dibbuns, the Abbeybabes. "We went a-questin' o'er hill an' dale, thick'n'thin…shore, it was dangerous, but did we let that bother us?"

"Ye fergit, cuz," Gris pointed out. "Back then, we only 'ad ourselves t' worry about. Now we've got our kits under our command, as well as an abbey full o' beasts."

"He's right," Finn said. "We can't take chances."

"But Redwall is a peaceful place," Carys said. "We are not trained in the ways of warfare…even though _someone_ should have changed that when she became abbess…" she glared at Charity.

Charity rolled her eyes. "Fine! I get it! Hindsight is the clearest sight of all!"

Herryk chuckled. "Jus' like ole times…"

"_Too much_ like ole times," Finn said. "It's a good thing, then, that we arrived when we did. It's too bad that we don't 'ave any hares 'ere t' fight with us."

"Well if that horde is heading west," Charity said, "Then it is likely those hares will have their paws full to begin with. I feel so sorry for the badger lord there…"

"I don't," Carys said with a snort. "Even for a male badger, Osono Caden is so full of himself."

"Osono is th' badger lord now?" Gris asked. Herryk nodded, "An' 'e 'as been for a good number o' seasons. I 'ear 'e's got two children, a son an' daughter, named Brynmor and Anwen, respectively."

Gris folded his arms over his chest and grinned, reminiscing. "I a'member when we was still young'uns…"

"He was still stubborn even then," Carys said bitterly. Charity interrupted her, "Be that as it may, we still owe a lot to him, because without him, goodness knows we'd have been overrun a long time ago."

"If'n ye ask me, though," Finn said. "Osono's been gettin' on in seasons. I think 'is son will take over soon enough."

"And what is this Brynmor Caden like?" Charity questioned.

"Stubborn, like 'is father…"

"Of _course_," Carys muttered.

"…an' I'm 'opin' that Osono will see sense an' make 'is daughter the new leader of the mountain fortress an' its hares. Anwen's gots a good 'ead on 'er shoulders, that lass does."

"So I'm guessin' we'll be 'ere awhile?" Gris asked.

Herryk sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Looks like it, matey. I knows wot you all are thinkin', we've been on the trail before…I know we don't want t' stay away from 'ome too long…"

"That reminds me, Herryk," Finn started. "I haven't seen Erek here yet…"

Herryk looked a little sheepish, "I left 'im at 'ome, where he'll be safe."

Finn gave him a hard look. "I see…yew truly 'aven't changed at all, Herryk. Still so selfish that ye won't e'en risk yore one an' only son to grow into a warrior…"

"At least I accept him as my son!" Herryk bit his tongue. Finn looked stricken, ashen, and he took a shaky breath. Herryk struggled to ease the tension. "Finn…"

"No, yore right," Finn said quietly. Charity and Carys exchanged looks; they both knew that the subject had come up again, that one forbidden thing they were never to speak of in front of Finn. The abbess looked at Finn sorrowfully; _that_ _poor otter_, she thought.

"Yore right…an' its time I accepted it. I made a mistake…no, that ain't the right word. I…"

"Acted on an impulse," Abbess Charity offered.

"Aye, that's it…an' I shoulda accepted th' consequence instead o' runnin' from it. I ain't proud of wot I did, an' I ne'er will be. Is that what yew wanted t' 'ear?" he added to Herryk. The smaller otter averted his gaze.

Finn felt Charity's comforting paw on his shoulder. "We don't blame you for anything, Finn—I never have, at least. For whatever its worth, you have been forgiven."

"No I 'aven't. This is somethin' I can never be forgiven for," he said sadly. "I messed up once, an' I refuse t' do it again." He stood up out of his seat and grabbed his weapons, belting on the daggers as he said, "As long as I still draw breath, I ain't lettin' anythin' 'appen to this abbey or its creatures!"

* * *

Frey's paw hovered just over the ancient tapestry hanging in the Great Hall, afraid to touch it, so fragile it looked. His wondering eyes gazed up at the heroic figure of the armored mouse, grinning roguishly and triumphantly as vermin great and small ran from him in terror, their faded forms leaping across the woven threads, forming an interesting paradox of the strong and youthful figure on the fragile and decrepit cloth. But mysteriously, the figure of Martin the Warrior seemed to be as vibrantly colored and clear as if it had been woven merely a day ago…

Michael stood beside him and sighed through his nose, gazing up in reverence as well, his shoulders rising and falling with the moan. "I remember first comin' t' this abbey," he began, his voice low and quiet. "When I saw this tapestry, I dinnae think o' it as the other creatures 'ere do. They only see it as just that: a tapestry."

"Ain' that wot it is?" Frey wondered.

Michael shook his head and continued to stare at Martin's figure, leaning against the spectacular sword, armor glistening. "Not t' me 'tisn't. T' me, that mouse…I wanted to be _just like him_, I did. Martin gives me hope, 'e gives all the Redwallers hope."

"So doesn't that make ye a Redwaller?"

Michael paused a moment, pondering his question. Finally, the little brown mouse answered, "No, it doesn't. I'm an outsider 'ere."

Frey smiled wryly. "I c'n relate…"

"Mebbe that's why we get along so well," Michael said, finally looking up at the otter. "We understand each other."

Frey shrugged and stepped away from the tapestry. Once he was able to look at the big picture, he was struck speechless with wonder. "Its amazin'…"

"Aye," the mouse nodded. "But what bothers me about it…its so old, but the picture of Martin…it never fades. It never 'as, and I don't think it ever will. 'Tis strange, methinks, that nobeast but me notices it."

Frey half-joked, "Mebbe Martin's tryin' t' tell ye somethin'."

Michael didn't answer him, but his eyes wandered up the magnificent sword that still gleamed, hung on pegs over the tapestry. "Frey, don't ye ever wonder if ye were meant for somethin' more than wot ye were given in life?"

The otter hung his head. "Don't matter. I'd probably screw _that_ up too."

"Do ye always think o' yourself that way?"

"Michael," frey said bitterly. "Me whole life 'as been that way. I was never good fer anythin'. I dunno why Herryk thinks I might be a good warrior. Look at me!" He spread his arms open wide as if offering himself as a sacrifice. "I'm small, scrawny, and weak! Wot good can I do?"

This made Michael angry, and he pointed directly at the tapestry. "Look at _Martin_! He had t' be e'en _smaller_ than you! An' he fought off rats, foxes an' a wildcat. A _WILDCAT_! 'Tis not th' size o' th' warrior, _'tis the size o' 'is heart_! An' believe me, friend, if ye are able t' argue with me this far, then ye got the heart t' be a warrior."

"But don't believe that!"

"What will it take for ye t' believe?" Michael countered. Frey turned his head away from him and glared back up at the tapestry, at the figure of Martin, as if expecting the image to come to life and start talking to him.

"A miracle…I'd need a miracle."

* * *

There we go. Please read and review! 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Redwall is not mine. It belongs to Brian Jacques and The Redwall Company LTD. Though I do own my own copies of the books, I do not claim ownership to the idea and the Redwall world. The plot of this fan fiction and its characters are mine, and are not to be used without my permission.

A/N: whew, finally got this out. I'm on Spring Break right now, so on top of doing stuff around the house and out and about, I've got homework to do over the week. But I'm trying my best to update some of my other stories.

As always, please Read and Review! Feedback is always appreciated!

* * *

The third day after the near-execution of three creatures at the ferret Dinali's fort, dawned bright and golden, testament to the budding summer. Songbirds awoke from their slumber as the sun peaked over the mountains, through the green foliage of the trees, casting uneven shadows on the forest floor. Shafts of golden sunlight shone through the gaps in the canopy, and dust mites and gnats flitted in and out of the light. One lone butterfly, a lovely golden yellow, fluttered around until finding a landing-place on top of a soft perch. The butterfly's perch moved slowly, startling the poor thing, and opened its eyes.

Tristyn woke slowly, relishing the sunlight warming her face and took in a breath of fresh morning air, feeling the dewy morning mist cool her face. Slowly, the mousemaid sat up and stretched, rolling her shoulders to get the kinks out. She looked to her far left and caught sight of her two traveling companions still fast asleep.

Kyo rolled over onto his back, stretching his arms up over his head lazily. The black fox yawned then opened his bleary eyes. Propping himself up on his elbow, he shook his head to get the cobwebs out, and blinked his golden eyes until his vision cleared up.

"Good morning," she said to him quietly.

He yawned, and used his paw to politely cover his open mouth. "'Mornin'," he replied. Tristyn smiled shyly. This whole thing was taboo. She was traveling _alone_ with _two males_ in the _middle of nowhere_, and to make this situation even _more_ unthinkable, those said two males were _vermin_. Foxes, to be exact, but still…

The past two days had been draining on her, physically, mentally and emotionally. Kyo had declared that they needed to run at a "double-march, wot wot!" (in horrible impersonation of a hare) in order to get as much distance between them and Dinali as possible. Tristyn had lain awake that first night with them, her eyes staring out at the bushes and foliage, tensed, expecting the foxes to jump her and…well, she didn't want to consider the rest. Yet she had dozed off, then was awoken in the early morning by Ren gently shaking her shoulder. Tristyn spent that whole day trying to figure them out, why they were doing this…

Kyo was a mystery to her. Ren was easy to figure out, seeing that he was a corsair and acted in a way that was typical of the breed. Kyo however…was different. He was tall and silent unless he had something to say, and the mousemaid often caught the fox staring out into space, or even staring at her. The latter worried her most; when he stared at her, it was always with an expression of longing…

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts she stood and stretched her back. "Should we get going?"

"Definitely," he agreed with her, slowing rising to his feet, brushing fallen leaves and dirt off his backside. He nudged Ren with his foot. "Ren, wake up, we gotta get moving."

The brown fox grunted in his sleep and turned over onto his side, curling up into a fetal position and mumbling, "Five more minutes."

"Oh, I'll give you five more minutes," Kyo growled. Tristyn tried to hide the smile that threatened to spill from her lips; even though they were…a little unorthodox, these foxes were still amusing to watch.

"Kyo, lets just leave him be. We should think about getting something to eat."

"What, now?" he questioned. "Tris, I'm trying to put as much distance…"

"And without food, we won't get much farther," she retorted. "We barely ate a thing yesterday except for a few dandelion leaves and some unripe berries."

He sighed through his nose and stood with his paws akimbo, visibly pondering their options. As tired as he was, he still felt it wasn't safe for them to cease running just yet. The black fox was still unsure about whether or not Dinali was still looking for them, or even if he was, how far away they were from being captured. At the same time, Tristyn had a point; they'd barely eaten anything since escaping, and without some decent meal, they were guaranteed to lose strength, thus slowing them down. And making them easy targets for whatever else was out there. Kyo inwardly cursed that he hadn't gotten his saber back—it was a good saber. Sure, he'd stolen it off a dead corsair, but it wasn't like that dead rat was going to need it anyway.

"Alright," he said finally. "But we'll have to scout for a little while, forage."

Tristyn pointed over her shoulder. "I thought I heard running water over there. There might be watercress and some good vittles there."

"Or fish," he smiled fondly. "I could go for some good perch right now…"

"And what would we catch it with? We have no fishing line, or even a hook."

"Hook? We don't need no stinkin' hook," he scoffed.

* * *

Kyo cursed as the fish's tail slapped him in the face and fell back into the running stream, swimming away with all its might. Ren sat on the shore and laughed, slapping his paw on his knees, "Haha, Moron!"

Kyo snarled, "When you want to start helping, let me know, smart-ass!"

Tristyn and Kyo stood in the shallows up to their thighs in chilly water, but it felt good to their tired feet. The ragged hem of her slave's tunic was tucked into the rope belt that was tied around her tiny waist, just by her right hip; she was oblivious to the furtive looks Kyo and Ren were throwing her way, however. Tristyn sighed wistfully as the rushing water gently massaged the tired muscles in her legs, the smooth river pebbles kneading the bottoms of her feet. She smiled at Kyo. "Its alright, I haven't caught a thing yet."

He sighed raggedly and leaned forward, his paws clenched into claws, ready to strike down into the water to grab a fish. "Its not that, its just I'm so used to only needing one shot, one chance, to grab what I need, and that's it. Sleight of paw is how I make a living. I'm a thief, remember."

"And a damn perfectionist, too," Ren called from the sidelines.

"Unlike _some_ underachievers…" Kyo growled under his breath.

"Ah, but I am a _successful_ underachiever!" Ren said happily, making a point with his index finger. "I don't have to lift a finger and luck comes my way! Whereas you, my overly obsessive friend…you are an Unsuccessful _Over_achiever."

"Ren, shut up."

Tristyn yelped and the mousemaid scampered backwards, and both foxes looked up. Kyo caught her just as a perch wiggled out of her grasp. The black fox made a mad dash to catch the fish, but only succeeded in tripping both him and Tristyn, and both creatures fell backwards into the water. The perch bounced off them and onto the streambank, where Ren stabbed it with a sharp twig, skewering the fish. The brown fox looked out at the water and was mildly amused to find Tristyn straddling Kyo in a very compromising position, alarmed looks on both their faces. Tristyn's face was turning a bright red, and by the looks of Kyo's predicament, if it were not for the black fur, he would be blushing as well.

"You know," Ren said, "If some creature were to walk around that bend within the next minute or so, they might start to talk…"

Tristyn scrambled up and out of the water, making loud splashes as she did so. Kyo sank beneath the cool water, and Ren commented, "Trying to drown yourself, fox?"

Kyo send him a rude gesture and climbed onto the riverbank, looking down at the one fish sorrowfully. "I wish there was more to it than that."

"Do you want me to forage for something?" Ren asked impatiently. Kyo exhaled heavily and made a motion with his paw. "Go for it."

"Right then," the brown fox said cheerfully. "Be back in two shakes of a squirrel's tail…"

* * *

"May I ask you something?" Tristyn asked Kyo later. Both creatures had shed their wet clothes, draping them on the low-hanging branches of a willow tree to dry in the early summer sun. Kyo wrung out his off-white shirt and hung it on a branch next to his dark blue tunic and cloak. He forced himself to not look in Tristyn's direction, as he was certain that she was as exposed as he was. He took a seat on the riverbank, a thick bush between him and her, effectively hiding their nakedness from each other.

"Ask away," he said. "Does this have anything to do with why I'm helping you?"

"Well, yes actually," she said, covering herself with her arms, curling up to cover as much bare skin as possible, even though there was no one else to see them like this…she hoped. "It makes no sense to me. You're a fox, I'm a mouse. Why on earth would you want to help me? Wouldn't it make more sense to just make me your slave?"

"It _would_," he agreed. "If that was the way I was. For whatever reason, I guess I just think differently from other 'vermin'."

"Why is that?"

He sighed. "I'm not from this land. I was born in a place far to the south…very far. Across two seas, in a land of deserts, where the sun is worshipped as a god…you'd probably like it there. There's never any cold, no winter, and the sun shines every day."

Tristyn could hear him sigh nostalgically, and she could practically envision the smile on his face. The mousemaid pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs, resting her head on her knees. "You miss it," she stated.

"To a degree: I don't miss the sand or the sandstorms…you'd get sand in places you didn't even know you had."

Tristyn giggled; Kyo allowed himself a smile at the sweet sound.

"Back home," he continued. "We really don't have…such strict rules as you have up here."

"Like what?"

"Well, for one thing…I had a sweetheart."

"Oh," she said. She hoped she didn't sound too disappointed.

"Aye, and she was a rat."

"_Oh_?" her ears perked up, totally interested.

Kyo nervously scratched behind his ear, rubbing the back of his neck. "Aye…courtship really has no rules. So long as you marry within your own species, everyone is alright with it. There have been a few cases of a mouse and a rat marrying, and a weasel and mongoose…"

"Mongoose?"

"Its like a ferret."

"Ah."

"Aye, so…forgive me."

"Why?"

"I'm making you uncomfortable."

"Oh no, you're not."

"You're a horrible liar, you know," he said with a wry smile.

Tristyn frowned. "Yes, well its not like I'm a clever thief, aren't I?"

"No, but you're one hell of a fighter. I've never seen such a large spirit inside such a tiny thing," he said, the awe evident in his voice. "What possessed you to fight like you did?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tristyn…"

"It was survival," she said shortly, an irritated tone in her voice. "It was survival and nothing else."

"Even still," he probed. "I've never seen anything like it. You would have died there…but you don't care, do you?"

"It wouldn't have mattered to me if I died," she told him, her voice bitter. "My life was worthless. I was better off dead…"

"DON'T SAY THAT!" He stood abruptly, glaring over the branches straight down into her startled brown eyes. "If your life was so worthless, you're right, I would've left you where you were! I saved you for a reason, and I stand by it…oh damn it…" he trailed off once he realized what he'd done.

Kyo was grateful for his fur color—it hid the blush so well. He plopped down and fervently wished to slam his head into a tree for his stupidity. "I'm sorry…soooo sorry…"

Tristyn was still in shock, staring blankly out at the rushing water of the stream. _I saw everything_, she thought. _Dear Heavens, I saw everything_!

_I saw everything_, Kyo thought dismally. _Somebody shoot me…_

He yelped as an arrow embedded itself onto the stream bank right next to his knee. "Oh you have GOT to be KIDDING me!" he shouted. "How can this get any _worse_?"

Not too far off, Kyo and Tristyn heard Ren's startled cries. Kyo shook his head wearily and cursed, "In-fucking-credible…" He grabbed his tunic and almost threw Tristyn her old and raggedy slave's tunic, but he made the executive decision and threw her his shirt instead.

"C'mon, get dressed!" he ordered. "I have a feeling we gotta run!"

Sure enough, Ren dashed around the bend in the river a split second later, panting heavily, his breaths so short, it made Tristyn wonder if his heart was about to give out. Seeing the fox run, however, was one hell of a funny thing to watch. Kyo tripped the brown fox with an outstretched foot and Ren face-planted into the stream bank.

"What the hell did you do this time!" Kyo demanded. Then he spotted the net of fish in Ren's fist. Kyo groaned and squinted his eyes shut. "Oh for the love of…wait, don't tell me. You stole that from otters?"

"Shrews," Ren corrected, his voice muffled by the mouthful of dirt he'd acquired after tripping.

"You _idiot_!" was all Kyo could get out before the shrew logboats appeared around the bend. Cursing loudly, the black fox dragged Ren to his feet and jumped over the bush, grabbing Tristyn's paw. "C'mon! We gotta get out of here!"

Ren barely dodged the next few projectiles, but he wasn't immune to the insults hurled by the shrews. The brown fox turned round and stopped after one particular jab at his personal hygiene and shouted back something about the shrews' mothers before Kyo yanked him backwards by his tunic.

"_Will you get moving_!" the black fox shrieked.

The trio made for the forest, heading due west through the trees, running as fast as their legs could carry them. Tristyn rolled up the sleeves of Kyo's shirt as she ran, the black fox leaping over roots and fallen branches as he ran. The mousemaid chanced a look over her shoulder and Kyo waved his paw. "Keep going! You can still make it!"

"But Ren…"

Kyo skidded to a halt and looked behind him. Ren was struggling through the forest and he finally saw why.

"Weapons," he gasped. "THAT'S why the shrews are so mad…that stupid fox…" Without a second thought, Kyo turned round and rushed back to aid Ren. The brown fox was panicking as he heard the shrews slashing through the trees with their rapiers and short-swords, getting closer and closer. When Kyo caught up with him, the black fox grabbed the weapons and smiled grimly as he picked up a pilfered saber.

"Ah…much better," he sighed as he handled the weapon."You, get moving; I'll hold them off!"

"But…" Ren started.

"GO!" Kyo roared, and Ren was off and running without another word. The net of fish was still wrapped around the fox's fist as he ran, the net slamming into his legs. Ren caught up with Tristyn, thrusting a pair of daggers into her paws. "We got to run, NOW!"

"But if they're _shrews_," she tried reasoning as he dragged her through the forest, jumping over tree roots and crashing through ferns and bushes. "They won't hurt me."

"Aye, but they'll hurt _ME_. An' I'm not taking any chances!"

Tristyn dug her heels into the ground, yanking back on Ren's hold on her wrist. She glared up at him, angrily demanding. "What about Kyo?"

Ren quickly explained, still in a panic, "He stayed behind to fend them off."

"WHAT?" Tristyn turned back around and began running. Ren called after her. "What in Hellgates are you doing!"

"I'm going back!" she yelled over her shoulder. "He needs help! OOF!" something slammed into her, but took his arm around her waist, picking her up.

"No I don't," Kyo panted, setting her down. "I think I wounded a couple of them, but they're still after us."

"We can lose them in the swamps…" Ren suggested.

"HELL No!" Kyo cursed. "I'm not risking my hide to run from a bunch of shrews."

"A bunch of Shrews with SWORDS!" Ren was quick to point out.

"You stole weapons from them!" Kyo argued.

"Will you both shut up!" Tristyn interjected. Both foxes turned to gape at her. Tristyn held both daggers in one paw and glared up at them. "If we're being followed, we run! Where's this swamp?"

"Its more like a marsh…" Ren was quickly cut off.

"Even better," Tristyn said. "Where?"

Ren pointed south-west. "Down that way. It's a tributary of the River Moss."

"There's no way this'll work," Kyo argued, but he started running with them, the saber still drawn. The black fox slashed at foliage as he took the lead, Ren coming up behind him, following closely. Suddenly the brown fox yanked Kyo backwards sharply, skidding to a halt. Because of their sudden stop, Tristyn slammed into Ren's back, nearly causing both foxes to topple forward. Ren quickly jumped over a fallen log, dragging the other two with him. He pressed a finger to his lips, motioning them to keep silent. Beckoning them with his paw, he led them in a crouch away from the path until they entered a marshy place hidden amongst high reeds where the water reached their calves, then to their knees as their feet sank in the mud.

Ren silently told them to crouch in the murky brown water, ducking their heads so that they couldn't be seen amongst the reeds. The three of them struggled to keep their breathing under control as they heard the shrews begin looking for them. Rapiers slashed at reeds and plants, and the trio knew that they would be discovered at any moment.

That was when Tristyn noticed a fallen log, old and rotting, more than likely a few seasons dead. She tugged on the foxes' clothes and slowly and quietly led them over to hide. Above them, in their hiding place, they also found it to be a hollow space in the embankment where an oak tree's naked roots stretched out into the water. This provided the cover they wanted, and needed. They huddled close together, willing each other to control their panicked breathing, their hearts beating like drums.

Kyo hugged Tristyn close to him as Ren crouched next to him, sitting completely still; the only thing that was moving were Ren's eyes as they darted to and fro in dread. Kyo and Tristyn kept their eyes looking out the entrance of their hiding place, watching with horror as a quartet of shrews splashing into the murky water where they were hiding mere moments before. One of them suddenly gave a shout, and the four ran out of there quickly as if Hellfire was on their heels.

Tristyn's brow furrowed; what had just happened?

Kyo whispered, "What just happened out there? Why'd they run?"

Ren poked Kyo with his finger, and once he alerted the black fox, the brown fox pointed, his brown eyes wide with terror. He tried swallowing, but it felt like he'd swallowed cotton, and Tristyn and Kyo soon found out why, as both creatures slowly turned their heads…

Right in front of them, curled up tightly, its coils rolling over the tree roots, golden eyes visible in the near-light, was an adder of humongous proportions.

Ren finally gasped out. "That's why."

* * *

Grenn was rudely awoken from a doze after someone shoved him out of his seat on a stool. It was the weasel's habit to sleep outside the slave pens, seated on that stool, arms crossed over his chest, footpaws sticking out in front of him, his back against a wooden beam. The weasel cursed and drew a knife on his assailant. The perpetrator smacked the knife out of his paw and slammed him up against the beam.

Tarian had been woken in the middle of the night and was in no mood for whatever Grenn was going to say. "Get off your lazy tail and get packed," she ordered.

Grenn choked out, "W-why?"

Tarian released her hold of the weasel's throat and dropped him unceremoniously to the ground. The slaves that were working near them didn't stop their work, but cocked their ears in the direction of the two vermin; whatever was going on, it didn't bode well.

Tarian Rhad sheathed Grenn's knife in her belt. "The Master is ordering a search for the escaped prisoners."

"But they got away," Grenn said, massaging his throat. "What's 'e…"

"You didn't let me finish, moron," she barked. "You and I and a few others are going out on a search and destroy mission…and reconnaissance."

"Recono-wot?"

The grey vixen rolled her eyes and made a disgusted noise. "Scouting, idiot. We're spying on…"

"Who?"

Tarian, her fuse dangerously short, slapped the weasel sharply across the face, drawing blood from his lip and nose. "Would you BLOODY let me _FINISH_?"

The slaves around them flinched at the edge in her voice, and knew that this was very bad. The only time Tarian raised her voice to anybeast was right before said beast would meet the business end of one of her skinning knives. The vixen had no qualms over skinning a beast alive, then flaying the carcass and throwing it up the gulls.

Grenn cowered and Tarian ordered, "Quit sniveling and get up. I'm losing my patience with you." she was merely reinstating an obvious fact, but Grenn was quick to answer to her command. As the grey vixen turned on her heel to head back to see her Master, she called over her shoulder, "Well? Aren't you coming?"

Grenn scrambled to his feet, and a few of the slaves sniggered. Grenn grabbed his whip and lashed out at a female otter near to him. "Watchoo lookin' at, eh?"

As the female otter struggled to pick up the timber she had been carrying, Grenn stalked off after Tarian, who led him down to the underground chamber of Dinali the Killer.

Dinali's quarters were barbaric to say the very least, Spartan with their near bare earthen walls, lined with dark granite bricks. Weapons and shields hung on pegs on the wall, and torches blazed on black cast-iron wall-brackets every six feet. The minimal firelight cast eerie shadows on the dark single room. One the opposite side of the room, right in front of them, there was a pile of cushions, blankets and pillows, one of them had been stained an ominous dark brown. Grenn made a face at it, but the look Tarian sent him told the weasel that stain wasn't what he originally thought it was. That stain was dried blood.

The pillows and pile of cushions served as Dinali's bed, a cotton tapestry died a bright scarlet and bedecked with scenes of exotic animals, birds and tribal designs from some faraway land were outlined in black and gold. The warlord's "throne" as he liked to call it, sat right in front of the pair, the ferret's make-shift sleeping quarters situated just off to their right. The opposite corner was bare, but for the shackles and chains…and the rotting corpse of a squirrel.

Tarian wrinkled her nose at the stench. "You'd think the smell would get to him eventually," she mused softly.

"One would think that, yes."

Tarian gasped and whirled,seeing Dinali standing in front of her, holding the cloth back with the back of his one paw, a bloodied knife in his other paw. The ferret's shirt was open, and aside from the black kilt he wore, he was barely dressed. Tarian berated herself for letting her guard down as Dinali stepped out to meet them.

"Tarian, did you inform Grenn here about your mission?" he asked plainly, idly glancing at the blood on the knife, oddly still wet and glistening crimson in the firelight. The grey vixen nodded.

"Everything is ready, sire," informed him. "And I am prepared to leave immediately…"

"Not until I'm finished," the ferret said, deftly throwing the knife over at the corpse, the blade hitting the dead target, embedded up to the hilt in the dead squirrel's chest. Though Grenn was beginning to look a little ill, Tarian tried her best to banish the image from her mind. Dinali stalked around them in a circle, like a vulture over its intended meal. "Here's the deal, sweetheart," he said to Tarian, who stood to attention, rigid as a steel beam, her grey eyes staring straight out.

Dinali continued, "Your first priority is to scout the land. I need to know where everything is. That's why Taro is going with you."

Tarian nodded. Taro was a rat who was well-adept at making maps. When Dinali was still a sea-faring beast, Taro was the cartographer, astronomer, and astrologer. In fact, if Dinali had any flaws, it was that he relied too much on the stars. He was suspicious, the vixen knew, but then, what corsair—or any sailor for that matter—was not?

"Third priority: if you happen to find the escaped prisoners, feel free to kill them. Just make sure you bring me back Ren's hide, the head of that smart-ass black fox, and the heart of that mousemaid. Are we clear?"

"Aye, sir."

"But yew missed th' second prior'ty," Grenn spoke up timidly. Livid, Dinali quickly grabbed him and savagely threw the weasel to the floor.

"Did I _say_ you could speak?" he demanded. "Keep your maw shut if you know what's good for you! But you are curious, aren't you?" he directed this last question to Tarian, who replied,

"I would be lying if I said it did not intrigue me, milord" she answered. Her tone was pleasing to the ferret. Dinali smiled at her, genuinely; she was the only one worthy of this smile. Dinali did favor her, he would admit, as she was the only competent creature he had working for him. No matter what he said or how he acted, he respected Tarian's judgment.

"All right," he conceded. "Your Second, and _Most_ _Important_ Priority…" He leaned in close to her ear and whispered loud enough for Grenn to hear.

"Scout Salamandastron, then report back to me…by the end of Summer, Lord Osono will be dead."

Tarian's eyes widened and she stared out into space. "Gods…" she gasped.

"Surprised?" Dinali asked silkily. "You shouldn't be."

"But sire!" she interjected desperately. "This is the badger Lord! He's a bloomin' BADGER! How on earth…you mean to _assassinate_ him!"

Dinali stared evenly at her, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression unreadable. "No, Tarian, I mean to invite him to sit down and have a civil talk over tea and scones…"

"But sire, it's impossible!" she said, rationalizing, as Dinali watched her carefully. "It has to be! Warlords long before yourself have tried _and_ _failed_ to conquer the Fire Mountain and kill the badger inside! What's more, its an impenetrable fortress with a full army of fighting hares! The troupe that your soldiers killed the other night was only a small squad. We're talking about a _whole army_! And on top of that, there is not one, but THREE badgers: Osono, his son Brynmor and daughter Anwen!"

Dinali allowed a slow smile to grow on his thin lips. "I knew I could trust you to be rational about this, Tarian. You always are. As a matter of fact, you just pointed out everything that can go wrong here. One," he held up a claw. "There are the badgers. Two," he held up two claws. "there is the army of expertly trained hares. And Three," he held up a third claw, "there's the mountain itself. That's why I'm sending you out.

"Scout ahead," he continued, turning round to stalk back to his sleeping quarters, "get as much information about the mountain as you can. You'll be traveling by sea, straight down the coast. Your ship leaves as soon as you get your team together."

"Yes sire. Are there any other orders you wish for me to carry out, milord?" the vixen as cautiously. Dinali waved her off.

"Find the mountain's weaknesses, then report to me. That is when we strike. I'm giving you a moon in which to do this. Don't let me down."

Tarian bowed to the ferret's back, then roughly dragged Grenn back to his feet and departed quickly. Dinali waited until the heavy oaken door slammed behind them before parting the curtains around his sleeping quarters.

A female mouse lay on the cushions, her slave's tunic torn in many places, a gag in her mouth. Tears ran down her face and terror crossed her weary features as he reappeared. Her wrists were tied together over her head, the rope snuggly secured on a hook on the wall.

Dinali crouched down next to her, taking out a new knife, carefully sharpened, and ran it along her cheek. She gasped and flinched, feeling blood leaving the new open wound.

Curiously, the ferret decided to taste the blood, carefully running his tongue along the broad side of the blade, the mouse quivering and crying at the sight. He closed his eyes in rapture as the metallic, irony taste entered his mouth. He gazed back down at the terrified mouse before he stabbed the knife into the cushion by the mouse's head. There was a wicked, queer grin on his face.

"Now…where were we?"

* * *

Neither Kyo, Ren nor Tristyn moved for a moment, transfixed by the adder's steady, unblinking glare. The serpent raised its head, tongue darting out of its mouth, hissing hypnotically. Tristyn swore she saw the monster smile. It was, without a doubt, a very large adder, and it also looked incredibly hungry. Kyo's grip on Tristyn's arm tightened.

"Shit…" he cursed. Ren didn't move, but whispered out of the corner of his mouth, his lips barely moving,

"We can't run…those shrews might still be out there."

"And if we _do_ move, shrews will be the least of our problems," Kyo whispered back. Tristyn tugged on Kyo's tunic.

"I have an idea. Start inching away from it. Slowly, carefully…"

"What are you _doing_?" he hissed at her.

Ren hissed back. "Just do as she says, mate."

Wordlessly, Kyo complied, and was startled when Tristyn tore herself from his grasp.

"Trist—!" he was cut off as one of Tristyn's daggers flew right past his face, severing a couple whiskers, straight at the adder's head. The snake ducked and its head rose, poised to strike. The mousemaid shouted at Kyo, "NOW!"

Kyo's reaction was nothing short of miraculous, the fox relying on pure instinct as he drew his saber from his belt and swung swiftly just as the snake was about to strike. Ren jumped back with a yelp, landing on his back outside their hiding place, Tristyn and Kyo scrambling out a second later. Kyo pushed both of his companions. "Move!"

The three of them crashed through the water and back to land, but Tristyn still ran. Kyo ran after her, catching her by her upper arm.

"Tristyn!" he called. "Tris…its okay, its alright…its dead."

She whirled at him "What? Are you serious?" her gaze suddenly was drawn to Kyo's saber, which glistened with blood. The black fox nodded and released her arm. "Ever heard the saying 'cut off the head of a snake, the body dies with it'?"

Ren caught up with them, panting. "You mean…to tell me…that you killed the damn thing…with _one_ strike!"

"One is all I needed," the black fox replied coldly.

Tristyn took a step back and realized for the first time that Kyo looked particularly menacing with the saber in his paw, blood from the snake splattered over his dark blue tunic. He noticed her frightened gaze, then looked down at his tunic.

"Oh..._Damn_ it!" he cursed, tugging on the blood-stained tunic. "This'll _never_ come out!"

Ren offered his own helpful advice, "You could always try scrubbing it with wet sand…"

"You don't think I haven't tried that before?" the black fox asked crossly. "Believe me, I've tried everything in the bleedin' book!"

"You could always go naked," Ren offered.

Kyo smacked him.

"OW! Is this how you treat the one who brings you dinner?"

"What?" mousemaid and fox asked, then gaped as Ren held up the net of fish; he hadn't dropped it the whole time.

"Un…fucking…believable…" Kyo said tiredly. "You…" He stopped himself before he went off into a rant, which all three of them knew could go on for hours. The black fox let the saber fall from his grasp as he shook his head. "You're a stubborn son-of-a-bilge rat, I'll give you that."

"Nay, I am a _determined_ son-a-of-bilge rat," Ren corrected with a triumphant grin. Holding the net up like a torch bearer, he grinned. "Let's eat!"

* * *

Hours later found the trio sitting in a pine grove, a small fire in front of them. The net Ren had stolen contained ten fish, half of which was quickly devoured by them. Tristyn reached forward for her second fish, before Kyo handed her a roasted perch.

"This little bugger look familiar?" he asked her.

"Is that the fish we caught earlier?"

"No, it's the fish _you_ caught earlier. Ren said he picked it up as he was running. Here, you deserve it," he said as he reached for another fish. He and Ren fought over a trout as Tristyn looked on, an amused smile on her face. As she tore into the roasted fish, she thought about the last few days.

If someone had told her three days ago that she would have escaped an execution, gained her freedom, then start traveling to Salamandastron with two wily foxes, she would have thought that creature had lost its mind. Truth was, her life had never been easy, but the sudden appearance of Ren and Kyo made it even more complicated.

But as she watched the two of them fight over the trout, and then witness Kyo win after jabbing Ren with a stick, stealing away the fish and sticking it between his teeth, grinning like a babe with a candy, Tristyn decided that she didn't care.

* * *

Yes,I do realize that Kyo says some language that was never present in any of Brian Jacques' books. But interesting tid-bit: the "F-Word" has been around since Shakespeare's time. The things you learn in English lectures...  
Remember to Read and Review! 


	6. Chapter 6

Tristyn

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall, Brian Jacques does. I'm a poor college student, who, somehow, was able to pull this out of thin air…over the past four weeks…

* * *

The feasting for the Nameday Celebrations would last for another two days after the otters arrived, but Michael would not allow himself to stick around any longer. He decided to take Brother Augustus' advice and leave while everybeast was distracted. The young mouse felt a pang of sadness in his heart: would anyone really miss him? He had been an outsider for so long, no one really bothered to get to know him. He tried to not let it show, but the loneliness cut him deep.

Late that night, while all creatures slept soundly in their beds in the dormitories, Michael lay awake under the sheets, his eyes staring into the flame of the candle burning itself out by his bedside. He was fully clothed beneath the sheets, lying in wait until he was sure he would be alone. Finally, once he heard the light snores of the other sleepers around him, he threw back the sheets and quietly slid out of bed, fixing the sheets over the bed neatly. He felt it would be more fitting to make his bed now that he had slept in it.

He took hold of the candle after taking an empty rucksack from under his bed and tiptoeing to the door, closing it behind him, slowly and quietly, but for a faint squeak from the rusting hinges. He paused outside the closed door, listening to hear if anyone was going to follow him. After a few moments of listening, his adrenaline rushing through his system, the mouse briskly trotted down the hallway on his tiptoes, hugging the shadows along the walls.

Michael's candle was the only source of light outside of the full moon whose silvery rays shone through the windows of the Great Hall and Cavern Hole. As he passed through Cavern Hole, Michael looked up once more at the tapestry of Martin. He paused as he looked upon the heroic figure, Michael's face set with determination.

"I'm leaving," he said to the armored mouse, as if expecting Martin to answer him. "I won't be comin' back. Thank ye for letting me stay here. Good bye."

As Michael continued to walk, he heard a strong male voice firmly and loudly call out his name.

"_Michael!"_

The mouse jumped and whirled around, dropping his candle. The candle and its holder clanked to the floor, the flame extinguished. Michael's brown eyes scanned the interior…and saw no one.

'_Tis nerves_, he told himself. _'Tis nerves…_

He turned away, picking up the tin candleholder and broken candlestick, but dropped them again when he heard his name spoken again.

"_Michael!"_

"Who's there?" he demanded. Michael boldly walked out onto the floor illuminated by the moon's rays. As his eyes scanned the Cavern Hole, he found to his bewilderment that no one was there. For some odd reason, Michael felt compelled to turn his head to the left and stare back at the tapestry. He shook himself out of it.

"Nonsense," he said out loud. "'Tis no way…"

"_Michael!"_

"_WHAT_?" he shouted irritably.

He yelped and jumped back as something fell from the wall, clattering on the stone floor. Michael tripped and fell backwards onto his tail, and as he rubbed his smarting backside, his eyes grew as round as the moon outside the window.

The Sword of Martin lay before him.

Astonished, Michael looked back up at the tapestry with wonder and awe. Gingerly, timidly, Michael pushed himself up to a kneeling position, slowly leaning forward to take the sword in his hand, his eyes never leaving the figure of the cloth. Suddenly, just as his paw inched closer to the sword, he could have sworn the figure of Martin _moved_!

Michael gasped and jumped back. "Right, _that_ 'tis th' last time I eat hotroot afore bed…" He scrambled to his feet and began to run to the kitchens to gather provisions for his trip but he slowed his step just outside the kitchen door, paused, then turned back.

The sword and scabbard still lay on the floor in front of the tapestry.

Torn between wanting to get out of there, and wanting to know what exactly was going on, Michael exhaled shortly before turning on his heel.

"Alright, ye win," he said irritably to Martin's likeness. "Ye want me t' take the bleedin' blade, I'll take th' bleedin' blade. I just hope ye know I'm not gonna be comin' back…"

As Michael buckled the sword around his waist, he looked back up at Martin's figure, and, gradually, the frown on the young mouse's face dissipated.

"Yet."

With one last glance, Michael trotted over to the kitchens, tip-toeing inside. He found the cook sprawled out on sacks of grain, snoring up a storm. The problem with Friar Maddock was that the dormouse was a light sleeper despite his heavy snoring. Michael would have to be extra careful and extra silent now. Picking up his rucksack and running from cupboard to cupboard gathering items for the trail: dried fruits, hardtack, some bread, various vegetables and some containers of water. He briefly considered taking some salted fish with him, but he decided against it. He could always get fish from the rivers and tributaries.

Along with food, Michael packed a spare shirt and tunic, fishing line and hook and a cloak. He packed lightly, convinced that he needed nothing else, and whatever he did need, he could get from the land.

Convinced that he had everything he needed, Michael strapped Martin's sword to his hip and walked out the outside kitchen door, closing it silently behind him.

Once outside, Michael looked about, then noticed that getting out would be harder than he anticipated. Otter guards stood on the wall tops and patrolled the parapets two at a time, shoulder to shoulder. Michael pressed himself against the outside wall, hugging the shadows, and took a deep breath. He would have to wait until he was presented a chance to get away.

He looked to his right and saw the east wall gate, nothing more than a small wooden door made of oak. It used to be a whicker gate, but seasons had been very unkind to it, and Abbess Charity decided that an oaken gate would, like the others, be far more suitable for the abbey's protection. That also meant that it would be a bit more difficult to sneak out. Oak was far heavier than a whicker gate, so he wouldn't be able to simply open and close it and be on his way. Michael would have to make a mad dash to the gate and hide in the shadows until he had a chance to unlock and open the heavy door and get out.

He waited until he saw the otter guards on the wall top disappear from sight before he hunched down, readying himself to sprint to the east wall gate. Taking a deep breath, he dashed, becoming a dark blur on the abbey lawn before skidding to a stop by the oak door. The mouse quickly glanced around, and to his joy, found no one around. Michael started to unbolt the door…

"Michael?"

Michael stopped, gasping, then whirled around to face the one who had caught him. Once he saw him, Michael felt a pang of guilt.

"Frey…"

"Wot're ye doin'?" Frey asked him suspiciously. The otter, looking as disheveled as always, stared at the mouse standing in the shadows, the mouse looking like he'd been caught red-handed.

"I…" Michael trailed off, sighed, then decided truth was the best course of action. "I'm leaving."

"Wot?" Frey furrowed his brows. "Why?"

"I alreadae tol' ye. I don't belong here," the mouse explained. He turned back and unbolted the door. "Watch, no matter how much o' a fuss ye raise, no creature will stop me."

Frey moved over and stepped in Michael's path. "I'm stoppin' ye."

"Frey, move aside, mate."

"No, I don't want yew t' leave, matey."

"Frey," Michael said more firmly. "Me mind is made up. I'm leavin', an' I'm not stayin' fer any thing or any beast."

"But yew'll be all alone out there!" Frey argued, pointing his paw out at the surrounding woodlands. "Yew'll git into trouble out there all alone!"

"I got this sword."

"…That yer stealin'…"

"I'm NOT stealing it!"

"It ain't yores," Frey pointed out. "It's that Martin feller's…"

"Frey, Martin's been dead for centuries! This is the sword of the Abbey Warrior…"

"So I'm a-guessin' yore th' Abbey's Warrior now, eh?"

Michael stopped himself from retorting, shaking his head stubbornly and rolling his eyes. "Look, I'm not gonnae argue wit ye any longer. I'm leavin', an' that's…"

"Michael?" someone snuck up behind him. Michael jumped, his patience wearing thin.

"WHA—oh, Brother Augustus…"

The kindly and patient dormouse stepped up to the young mouse and otter, carrying something in his paws...and Michael's eyes grew wide when he realized it was the shied of Martin the Warrior. What the peaceful and kindly brother was doing with it was beyond the young mouse. Augustus began slowly, his voice low and quiet, "Michael…" he sighed. "I knew you were leaving soon, but I didn't think you would leave so early."

"I cannae stand it anymore, ye know that," Michael said harshly. "E'en with Frey an' the otters here, I cannae stay."

Frey interjected, "So yore jus' goin' t' leave? In th' middle o' th' night? An' _Alone_?"

"Aye, I thought I'd made that clear already!" Michael argued with him.

Augustus stared between the two males and sighed. "Frey, go with him."

Frey and Michael each stared back at him in astonishment, echoing each other, "WHAT?"

"Frey, I know so little about you," Augustus said, "and for that, I regret it. However, I know well enough from my dear friend Herryk. You are as much an outsider as Michael is, aren't you?"

"Well," Frey paused. "Aye, I am…"

Brother Augustus motioned to them. "Then you should join him."

Frey stared at him as if he had grown two heads and three more tails. "I can't do that! I'd be a deserter!"

"Not if you were going after a friend to bring him back to the safety of the Abbey…" Augustus offered, a sly glint in his eye. Frey gaped.

"Brother," Michael began. "It doesn't matter what you call it: the otters will still call it deserting…"

"Aye, I'm not taking that chance…OI!" Frey yelled as Michael sped off through the open gate. "Yew Bleedin'…" the otter cursed. He picked up his javelin and began to run off after the mouse before Brother Augustus grabbed him by his tunic and pressed the shield in his paws. The kindly dormouse smiled up at the otter. "You might be needing that."

"Thanks." Frey took after Michael immediately after that, crashing through the forest, yelling after the running mouse. "Michael!" he yelled, roughly pushing branches and ferns out of his way.

Augustus watched him run off, then the dormouse's eyes flicked up to the otters that appeared back on the ramparts. Both were pointing out to the woods and talking hastily between themselves. Brother Augustus hid his hands inside his sleeves and watched calmly as one of the otters ran off to alert their commander. By the look of them, it seemed Herryk would be the one to hear the news first.

* * *

"Wot d'you mean he's gone!" Herryk roared. "Frey was s'posed t' be standin' watch!"

Dag sent Ari a hard glance before answering Herryk, "Skip, it looked like 'e was runnin' after an Abbeybeast. We think Frey might've just gone off to bring 'im back…"

The abbey leaders Charity, Carys and Augustus stood outside the gatehouse with Herryk, Gris, and Finn, with a number of otters standing around. Magnus was the first one to speak, interrupting whatever Dag was about to say,

"Frey's a deserter!" he roared. "He doesn't deserve to call himself a Wide River!"

"That's coz 'e's NOT a Wide River otter, Magnus," Herryk barked. "Now _stand down_," he growled deep in his throat, and Magnus apprehensively stepped back despite the size differences between them.

Charity was the first to speak, clearing her throat, "Herryk, I apologize for this. I'm afraid the creature at fault for this is me: I knew that Michael would try something like this, disappearing into the night like this…"

"Then we need to go arfter 'im!" Skipper Gris spoke up. "They'll both get they'selves killed out there, wot with all those vermin about!"

Carys glanced over at Finn, whose face had paled when Gris spoke. "He's right," Carys said. "We'll need to bring them back."

"That's foolish and you know it," Augustus said calmly. "Michael won't be brought back here, even if we bound him tightly and dragged him the whole way. He would just run away again and again… And as for Frey, I have a feeling his duty to his friend is more important than his duty to his tribe. Herryk," the dormouse said evenly, "I do not blame Frey for his decision. If my humble opinion, he made the right one."

"'E went specific'ly against MY orders!" Herryk yelled.

"You mean orders that state he should not leave his post even when another creature's life was in danger?" Augustus' tone darkened sharply. "Correct me if I'm wrong, friend," the dormouse continued harshly, his words slashing into the otter chieftain. "But you made a similar decision when you were his age!"

"That woz different!" Herryk shouted. He was cut off by a loud shout from the normally quiet Abbess Charity,

"_YOU_ ABANDONED _YOUR_ POST TO GO AFTER _ME_!"

Every creature currently standing in the orchard, who had not known her personally, turned slowly to gape at her. Charity stood tall, a scowl on her normally peaceful features. She marched straight up to Herryk and stared him down, the all-too familiar fire of her youth blazing in her eyes.

"You and your cousins Gris and Finn ran after me when I ran away from this abbey in my youth. You three, and Augustus and Carys, risked everything to come after me, even if it meant your death and dishonor! And NOW you have the GALL to accuse a young one of deserting when YOU THREE are guilty of it as well!" she screamed.

Herryk took a couple steps back, and Gris moved closer to Finn, whom he felt had a better chance at fending off the mad female squirrel. Finn was the first to speak, "She's right. You can't condemn him. I would have done the same in his place. Even IF this…Michael…wanted to leave, its entirely too dangerous for him to be alone."

"Then what do you propose?" Carys said patiently. In all honesty, the Badgermum was only patient with Finn; of the three otter chieftains, she felt he had the best head on his shoulders. _Except for now_, she thought. _He's too emotionally attached to Frey…_

Finn sighed. "We need to go after them, before they get too far away."

"I'll go."

* * *

Immediately, Finn was suspicious.

The one who had stepped forward was Magnus. The otter's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Magnus strutted forward. "I'll go after him, and bring him back."

Judging by Herryk's expression, he didn't quite buy it either. But he conceded, "Magnus, no 'arm is 't come 't 'im. NONE. Yew go out, bring 'im an' Michael back as soon as ye can. We can't afford any mistakes."

"Not t' worry, Skip," Magnus said arrogantly. "I'm by far the best tracker you have, and the strongest warrior. I will bring little Frey and his small friend back within a reasonable time."

"You'd better," Finn growled. Magnus turned and gaped at Finn, the Skipper's eyes blazing hellfire. "Coz if you don't…its YORE hide!" he snarled wolfishly.

Magnus' eyes widened and he drew away from the simmering otter chieftain with alarm on his face. Though Finn was shorter than he, Magnus knew that the shorter otter's reputation far out measured his size. Finn was a powerful fighter, though he had never witnessed his skills for himself. Still, such a puny thing couldn't be that good.

"You've got nothin' t' worry about," Herryk assured his cousin. "I 'ave faith in Magnus. Trust me, matey, 'e'll git th' job done."

Finn didn't look too certain. And he wasn't certain after he watched Magnus collect his weapons and march out the abbey gates, into the woods, and after the two runaways.

The otter felt someone walk up next to him. Charity sighed.

"I know what is in your heart, Finn," she said quietly. "Do as it tells you."

Finn closed his eyes and took a long deep breath. He felt someone pressing his weapons into his paws. The otter opened his eyes and saw Carys, her regal and motherly face set with grim determination, as she pressed the hilts of his twin saber blades into his paws.

"Go after your son, Finn," she ordered.

Without another word, he sheathed his long knives behind his back, running out the gate and into the woods, feeling the eyes of his long-time friends on his retreating back.

He dashed through the undergrowth, whipping past ferns and low-lying branches. _Hang on_, he thought, _I'm comin'!

* * *

_

Michael didn't get very far before he felt someone yank him backwards by the back of his collar. "OI!" he yelled. "What the…?"

"Will ye SLOW DOWN!" Frey shouted at him. The otter was incensed, and quickly losing his patience. "I'm not chasin' yew any longer! We're going back!"

Michael twisted out of his grasp and stepped a few paces away from him. "No, I'm NOT going back! There's nothing for me there! My future lies to the west!"

"Wot in th' _bloody_ HELLGATES is out there fore you?" Frey demanded.

"MY HOME YE DAFT FOOL!"

Both creatures stood there glaring at each other in the grey early-morning light. Frey took deep breaths to control his temper, as he looked at Michael, stunned.

"Yore…'ome?"

Michael forced himself to calm down. "Aye. I know I came from th' West…I don't know where…somewhere. Me dreams 'ave been tellin' me somethin' waits fer me at the sea."

"An' yore goin', no matter wot, aren't yew?" Frey asked quietly.

Michael paused, staring Frey right in the eye, and nodded. "Aye, I'm not goin' back. Not fer anythin'."

Frey sighed, hanging his head, his slim shoulders sagging. He held his javelin loosely, then he straightened up, looking right back at the mouse, determination etched into his brown eyes.

"Then I'm comin' with ye," the otter said, leaving no room for interpretation. "I ain't lettin' anythin' 'appen to me best mate."

Michael sighed through his nose, turning on his heel, facing west. "Then yer tribe will get cross wit ye."

"I don't care."

Michael turned back and gaped. "What?"

Frey said firmly, with a strong conviction. "I don't care. They're not my tribe anyways. I never belonged…an' I don't belong now. I'm comin' wit ye…mebbe," Frey paused. "Mebbe there's somethin' fer me near th' sea too."

Michael stood in silence, just staring at his friend, trying to gauge his reaction, before the mouse sighed and shook his head. When he looked back at Frey, he offered the otter a small smile.

"Well then, mate," the mouse said. "Lets go see what that horizon 'olds fer us."

* * *

Salamandastron rose from the sands of the western shores, a lone sentinel of the coast, bearing an impressive face to the vast waters in front of it. The former volcano now served as the home and military base of the mountain's rulers, the badger lords and ladies, their lines tracing back to ancient, by-gone ages.

Anwen Seren, the daughter and youngest child of Lord Osono Seren, sat at her window seat staring out at the ocean and the surrounding shore, her sketchbook and charcoal lying neglected on her lap. Her long silvery white hair fell down her back, having fallen out her usual braided bun. Today was a day that she wanted to do absolutely nothing. Her father couldn't understand her current moods, and she was not ready to tell him of the disturbing dreams she had been having.

Brynmor was the only one to know about her dreams. He, normally a heavy sleeper, had been woken in the middle of the night by her screams of terror.

Anwen shivered though the day was sunny and warm, the sun's rays falling upon her fair face. The female badger closed her eyes and felt the rays warm her face, taking a deep breath of the fine sea air.

The nightmares always started out peacefully enough. Anwen would be walking along the beach in her dreams, alone and silent but for the crashing of waves on the sands and the seabirds over her head, their mournful cries as if a death knell. Then the sun would darken the world cloaked in darkness as a ring of white fire would replace the sun in the sky. A bad omen. Then she would scream as something snuck up on her, and all she saw was the flash of a knife blade before she awoke screaming, her body coated in a cold sweat.

It had been over seven days since she had had a decent night's sleep. Her older brother Brynmor thought she had the rare gift that some badgers can have: the gift of foresight. Precognition. Fortune-telling. Whatever some beasts would call it. Dreams would come to the chosen few, and more likely than not, those dreams would come to pass.

This terrified her. She was no warrior like her father and brother. She deeply resembled her mother, long since passed away. She had been a fair creature in life, and loved life too much to become a warrior. To take a life was shameful, she believed. As a result, Anwen was refused training in any form of combat. It didn't matter to the female badger now: training or no training, war terrified her. Battles were ugly affairs, and how her father could regale of exploits and gruesome murders carried out in the midst of battle was beyond her understanding. He spoke of killing vermin as if it were a fond childhood memory, and that scared her.

Brynmor was next in line for the lordship of Salamandastron. What if he turned out the same way? She couldn't bear the thought of her brother turning out the same way as their father. It would kill her, as most surely it would kill her brother.

Anwen had much to worry about, not in the least what her father expected of her. As she sadly stared out the window, impassively watching the tide ebb and flow, she closed her eyes and tried to envision a happier life, free of worry, free of fear, free of expectations.

As a young adult female of high rank, it was expected of her to marry soon. Unfortunately, male badgers "worthy" of a badger lady were in short supply, as her father had often said. So in short, or at least as far as Anwen was concerned, she was "doomed" to a life behind closed doors, at the mercy of her father and brother, doomed to never know the joy of a basic and fundamental sentiment: Love.

Osono was, for lack of better word, tactless. He said what was on his mind without a care, or care for anyone else's feelings. When her mother had been alive, Anwen knew she had been able to curb Osono's tendencies. After her untimely death, however, all things changed.

"Something bothering you, milady?"

Anwen was startled out of her musings and turned to see a sandy-furred female hare standing in the doorway. The badger offered a tired smile, picking up her sewing and putting aside, sighing.

"No, not really, Deirdre."

Deirdre arched an eyebrow. The hare was quite possibly Anwen's closest friend, and as her life-long friend, the tomboyish hare knew when something was up. "Annie," she started. She marched straight over to the badger's seat, picking up the sewing and depositing it unceremoniously on the floor. "It's _not_ nothing. C'mon, you can tell ole Deirdre, can't ye?"

Anwen offered her a tired smile then turned to stare out the window again. "I've been having that dream again."

Deirdre closed her eyes, wincing. "Oh, Annie…"

Anwen faced away from her and sighed. "Every time I close my eyes, I see images…I can't get them out of my mind. Deirdre, I feel as if I am going mad…stark, raving, mad…"

"Now you stop that right now, wot!" Deirdre said, standing quickly. She held up a finger to prove her point, "Yore not goin' insane, Annie m'gel. You just haven't been gettin' enough sleep, doncha know."

"That's just the thing Deirdre, I can't sleep at all! I keep having nightmares…"

"Well…have you told your ole Daddo?"

Anwen scoffed. "Absoultely not! It's bad enough he thinks me a disgrace, but nutters too?"

"Didn't we just go over this?" Deirdre asked impatiently. "You're NOT nutters! Mebbe its somethin' you ate?"

"Every night for the past week?"

"Could be the water."

Anwen shook her head and smiled thinly at Deirdre's attempt at a joke. But she still sighed sadly. "There's no hope for me, Deirdre."

"Now wot makes you say that?" the haremaid asked.

"Suitors, or a lack thereof."

Deirdre rolled her eyes. "Oh, not this again…Anwen, you will not die an old maid, mark my words!"

"Consider them marked," the badgermaid said half-heartedly. "I don't want to stay here any longer. Don't get me wrong, I love my father and brother…"

"No, I understand, miss. All of us understand," the haremaid said, sitting back down. "Me Daddo is losin' his patience with their fighting. Your brother should've left the mountain seasons ago! Why he chooses to stay…"

"Father wants him close by. He believes his time is close…" Anwen said, her eyes trained on the waves. She heard Deirdre scoff. "Rubbish! Your Dad's fit as a fiddle! Right as rain!"

Anwen furrowed her brows, and said nothing. Those dreams she was having bothered her greatly, and she was certain that by the end of that summer, the Badger Lord would be dead.

But one part of her dreams she had kept secret and safe, close to her heart, were the dreams of the stars…

_Three stars from the north, three from the east…and one from the south. All burning brightly, all converging on this mountain; but what does it mean?_

* * *

A/N: Read and Review! Let me know how I'm doing! 


	7. Chapter 7

Tristyn

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: although I claim no ownership to the Redwall universe (that is rightfully owned and copyrighted by Brian Jacques and the Redwall Company LTD.) I do claim ownership to all of these original characters.

* * *

Merely a day after their initial run-in with the shrews over the pilfered fish, Tristyn, Ren and Kyo reached the sea shore. The sun was just about to set, and the waters were awash with the vibrant colors of the setting sun, the horizon a watercolor of gold and reds, as the sky gradually darkened to a navy blue, and stars began to peek out from the heavens . Ren took in a deep breath through his nose and let out a satisfied sigh.

"Salt water! Ain't it the prettiest smell in the world?"

Tristyn wrinkled her nose. "I smell dead fish."

"And rotting seaweed," Kyo added miserably.

"Oh come now, you two are just cranky…" Ren said jovially, skipping down to the sand. Tristyn and Kyo tiredly watched the brown fox skip down to the waterline, and Tristyn mused, "I wonder how well he can swim?"

"If you're thinking of trying to drown him," Kyo said. "I've tried it. The fluffy-tailed bastard won't stay down."

Tristyn laughed quietly. "Poor luck for us."

"You win some you lose some," Kyo nodded. He took a few steps forward onto the sand, still warm from the long hot day. The warmth soaked into his footpaws and he sighed pleasurably. "We should be about another day from Salamandastron," he said.

"Oh," Tristyn said, trying to disguise the disappointment in her voice. "Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Yes," Kyo tried to lighten up. "Yes it is! Then you'll be safe, and Dinali can't touch you."

Ren popped up next to Kyo, startling the black fox. "You know, we could just take her there now. it should only take us a few more hours."

"Ren, you know how dangerous it is to travel by night around here," Kyo reminded him, slowly accentuating each syllable so the fox's limited brainpower could wrap itself around the concept. "There's toads, tree rats, and hell, who knows what else."

"Glad you see it my way!" Ren beamed. "Kyo…" he grinned. "Do you know how far we are from…"

Though Tristyn didn't know what they were talking about, Kyo slapped a paw over his eyes.

"Oh for fuck's sake…"

"That's RIGHT!" Ren jumped for joy. "The _Scurvy Gale_ is just a mile or so away! We'll be there by nightfall and we can get some food and a warm bed to sleep in…"

"Correction," Kyo pointed out. "YOU will get the warm bed with whatever female you can find for a 'reasonable' price. You also seem to forget…WE HAVE NO MONEY!"

Ren waved it off, "Pshaw! Who needs money? We're thieves, Kyo…"

"So now we're _stealing_ from one of the clientele of the inn?" Kyo was looking at his comrade as if he had lost his mind, which, considering it was Ren, probably was not that far from the truth.

"I don't see what your problem is," Ren continued. "You've never had trouble with stealing before."

"Ren, they are corsairs," Kyo tried to tell him, desperate. "Hardened creatures—tougher than you!"

Tristyn arched an eyebrow. "Well that's not saying much, is it?"

Ren scowled as Kyo burst out laughing. Tristyn sent Ren a mischievous grin combined with an innocent look. Ren huffed and started walking north in the direction of the inn. "Cheeky…" he muttered.

* * *

The three creatures paused outside of the _Scurvy Gale_ and looked over the leaning building. The corsair's inn looked like it had seen better days indeed, the boards that made up the walls weather-beaten and gray from seasons of fighting the coastal weather. A sign hung above the door, swinging in the ocean breeze on a creaking, rusting hinge. The front door of the establishment looked ready to fall off the hinges.

All in all, were it not for the music and raucous laughter coming from the inside, the trio would have assumed that the dilapidated building was long abandoned.

Ren began to walk forward, but Kyo yanked him back by the tail. Ren yipped and glared, "YIPES! Kyo, what the HELL is wrong with you?

Kyo pointed at Tristyn. "What are we supposed to do with her? We can't just waltz in there with a mousemaid dressed in an old shirt! She'll be attacked—WE will be attacked!"

"Why do you think I was going for that drunk?"

"What drunk?"

The door slammed open and a fat searat with a large paunch drunkenly sauntered out of the inn, splashing ale into his bearded face from a tankard. The pirate's clothes were stained and stunk to high heaven, and flies buzzed around his head. He only walked two feet before passing out on the ground and directly in front of the two foxes and mousemaid.

Kyo arched an eyebrow. "Ren…I will never understand how you are able to do that."

"It's a gift." Ren knelt down and started to relieve the searat of his effects, carefully removing the jerkin and tunic. The brown fox handed Tristyn a dagger and a cutlass before searching the searat's pockets. "A-hah!" he exclaimed, extracting a sizeable pouch. "Seems our drunk friend here didn't spend all his hard-earned gold!"

"Hard-earned?" Tristyn scoffed. "He stole it!"

"Stealing is a lot harder than it looks," Kyo stated. "It takes skill. Speaking of skill…Ren, how are we going to make her fit in with the crowd in there? She's still a female, and females of this place…"

"Fox, please! I'm not THAT stupid. We'll just take some pine resin and glue on some facial hair."

"Then how do I get it off?" Tristyn asked. "And fake my voice?"

"Pretend to be a mute…or a eunuch, whichever's easier."

The mousemaid and the black fox shared a long-suffering look. "Ren," she said flat-out. "I am _not_ putting foreign fur on my face."

Ren sighed and handed her the tunic and jerkin which she put on, albeit with some disgust. The brown fox smiled. "So I'm guessing you're going with eunuch then?"

* * *

A short while later, Kyo and Tristyn sat inside the crowded inn eating a meal that consisted of a type of soupy grain-meal, and dry crusty bread. Kyo had purchased two tankards of ale between them; Tristyn barely touched hers, while the black fox quietly took gulps here and there. He instructed her with a whisper, "You're going to have to drink all of that, you know."

Tristyn, cleverly disguised in her pilfered tunic, jerkin and cap, stared back at him. "I can't do that," she hissed. "I don't have a tolerance…"

"Tolerance fer wot, laddie?"

Tristyn froze and blinked in surprise as a scantily-clad female rat slipped onto her lap, wrapping her arms around her neck. The mousemaid looked to Kyo for help, but it looked like the black fox was trying to fight back a laugh.

The female rat cooed, "Yer so pretty…how young is ye?"

"Erm…" Tristyn blushed.

"Aoaw! 'e's so innocent!" she squealed. Kyo finally got over his amusement and grasped the rat's arm.

"Sorry, marm," he said courteously. "But he doesn't have any money."

As soon as those words had left his mouth, Tristyn was astounded by how quickly the rat disappeared into the crowd. She was even more surprised when Kyo burst out laughing, resting his head in his arms on the tabletop, his shoulders quaking with mirth.

"Why are you laughing?" Tristyn demanded.

Kyo grinned, "Your face was priceless! Ahahah! Priceless…"

Tristyn stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest. "It wasn't funny…" she trailed off when she realized what had just happened. "Hell's teeth," she swore as he eyes widened. "This is a house of…"

"Ill-refute?" Kyo finished. "Why did you think Ren wanted to get here so fast?"

Tristyn gaped and looked around the inn. "Where is he anyway?"

"Probably screwing one of the whores," the black fox said casually, taking another gulp of the ale. He set his tankard down and wiped his mouth with his hand. "He's pretty fond of this one vixen. Every time we come through, he asks for her…" he noted Tristyn's lost expression, then tried his best to disguise his shock. "Wait, you mean you've never…"

"Never what?" she challenged.

Kyo paused and looked around the room. "Never mind, it can wait until late…er." Tristyn didn't understand why he had trailed off, or why his face had suddenly gotten ashen until she followed his gaze to the front door. The mousemaid gasped.

Tarian Rhan and Grenn stood in the doorway.

* * *

Tarian curled her lip in disgust at the sordid surroundings. "Of all the places to stop…"

Grenn growled at her. "_Yew_ wanted to stop and ask fer directions, when we _could_ 'ave just followed the bleedin' _map_…"

"What _is_ it with males and _asking for directions_!" the gray vixen rolled her eyes.

Grenn ignored her and walked into the bar, skirting around the denizens and drunk males cavorting with whores. Tarian arched an eyebrow at a grizzled one-eyed fox who had been leering at her since she'd come in. That vulpine corsair was also drunk off his tail and wobbled over to her, and leaned heavily against the wall as he began talking to her in a drunken slur of jumbled words. "'allo, poppet…ainchoo a prettay thin'?"

Tarian narrowed her eyes at his barely discernable speech. "What the _hell_ did you just say?"

"Aoaw, ain' she kyoot, diss one?" That was the old fox's first mistake.

Tarian's tail bristled with rage. "WHAT did you just say?" she demanded. The drunken old fox only grinned at her, showing off his blackened gums and missing teeth. "An' a mouth on 'er! I know ways t' put tha' pretty mouth t' good use." That was the fox's second mistake. Then the fox made his third, and by far biggest mistake: he slapped her backside for good measure.

Meanwhile, Grenn was getting information from the barkeep, and had accepted some offered grog, quietly discussing with the sea rat behind the counter. The rat was cleaning a glass with a filthy rag, and arched a bushy eyebrow at the weasel. "Wot in th' name o' Hellgates makes ye want t' go there?"

Grenn looked about the room for eavesdroppers before leaning in closer and whispering, his lips barely moving. "We—th' vixen an' me—are on a mission…"

"If'n yer tryin' to conquer et, then ye master Dinali is a damned fool," the searat barkeep said shortly. Grenn couldn't hide his surprise; he was shocked that the rat knew who he was. "How…"

"Aye, I knowed Dinali, an' this sounds like one o' 'is stee-yu-pid plans," the searat highly stressed the word "stupid". "'E's a damn fool; 'e's allus wanted t' conquer et…but I tells ya matey, not a single creature 'as even considered et since th' days o' Ferahgo th' Assassin."

Grenn blinked in surprise, but somehow, he knew he shouldn't have been. It was a well known fact to the sea-faring vermin that one warlord had tried to take the mountain once before, and failed miserably. Certainly, Ferahgo made it into mountain…just as that crazy Wildcat had done many more seasons earlier…what was that cat's name? Grenn inwardly shrugged. It didn't matter. The fact that not a single beast had tried to conquer Salamandastron since Ferahgo…that disturbed him, and he caught himself doubting if it were even possible, especially since there was a whole clan of badgers living inside the mountain fortress. Tarian had told him about Osono, the patriarch: he was easily the strongest badger to have lived there since Lord Brocktree in many distance seasons, ancient seasons.

Though how Tarian knew so much about the badgers and their lore was a mystery to him, and he was not about to ask her how she knew all of it…she would sooner lay him flat out than tell him her life story.

That was when the grizzled one-eyed fox was thrown onto the bar. Grenn jumped back just as Tarian rushed the fox, landed a heavy punch to his jaw and threw him over the counter. She snarled, "DON'T call me CUTE!" She yelped as a few of the fox's crewmates attacked her, pulling her into the center of the room. Grenn cursed and jumped into the fray, pulling out a dagger as he did so.

* * *

Kyo saw their chance. Grabbing Tristyn's arm, he dragged her out of the way of the bar fight just as a ferret corsair was thrown onto the table they were sitting at, knocking over their plates and tankards. Kyo quickly dragged her up the stairs to the second floor, and quickly ducked into a room, slamming the door behind them. Tristyn leaned back and slid down the wall as Kyo dead-bolted the door, groaning, "I will _never_ understand why I keep coming back here…"

Tristyn panted, "Are we safe here?"

"From the brawl? Yes. From anything else…well, I'm glad for the new locks."

Tristyn pulled her knees up her chest and looked up at him. "So what now?"

Kyo sighed and leaned his forehead against the door. "Either we wait until the fight dies down, or until Ren gets back from his 'appointment'. Whichever comes first…"

Tristyn could hear the cursing and yelling from below quite clearly, and sighed. "Looks like we'll be a while."

"Might as well stay the night," Kyo said, standing straight and stretching his arms over his head. He cracked his knuckles and his neck, before cracking his back. Tristyn squirmed with every crack. Kyo sighed, "Ah…much better. Oh, erm…you can take the bed."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "It may not be the best, but its not a slave pen. I erm…I doubt you've slept in a real bed before…" he trailed off, unsure if he was delving into a sensitive subject or not.

Tristyn sighed and stood, shedding the smelly and putrid outer clothing they had stolen from the drunken searat. Gingerly, she slowly padded over to the bed, fully aware of Kyo's eyes on her. She climbed under the blankets, drawing them up to her shoulders before she answered him, "No, I never have…"

"Well, I hope you enjoy it…not guaranteed to be as nice as a bed with…you know… 'goodbeasts'," he scoffed at the word. Tristyn turned over and stared at him. "You don't think they're good?"

Kyo took off his cloak and laid it on the floor, to use as a make-shift bed. He looked up at her, and she was transfixed with the bold look in his eyes. "They call themselves goodbeasts…and when they see my kind, what's the first thing that they do?"

"You can't say that they haven't dealt with their share of bad vermin though," she argued. "And _you_ can argue with them all you want, but all they'll ever see is the fox standing front of them…they'll never see _you_."

"So is that what you think of me?" he asked, a foreign edge in his voice. "Is that what you thought?"

Tristyn sat up, her eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Kyo's brows furrowed in anger, "Is that all I am to you? Just some _vermin_?"

"No! No, that's not it at all…"

"Forget it…"

Tristyn glared, then jumped out of bed, marched over to him and grabbed him by the front of his tunic, forcing him to look at her. "You didn't let me finish!" she nearly shouted. Kyo's golden eyes widened in surprise at her outburst, and once again, he was able to see the internal fire in her hazel eyes.

"I'll admit that's what I first thought when I met you: that you were just some vermin who would rob, rape and kill me for no good reason other than me being a mouse! But you did something vermin NEVER do here: you _helped_ me. _I_ know you're different, and I thought that would be enough to reinstate your faith in creatures, but I suppose I was wrong!"

She released him then turned back to her bed, fuming, jerking the old blankets over her body, her back turned to him.

Kyo blinked in surprise, and stared at her turned back in awe. He couldn't get over what she'd just done. Nobeast had ever done that before; and Tristyn had practically given a verbal slap in the face. He noticed that she had settled into peaceful slumber, her side rising and falling with each deep slow breath.

Sighing raggedly, Kyo turned away and laid down on his right side, his back facing her back. He curled up, trying to use his brush as a makeshift pillow, but had no such luck.

* * *

After a number of hours of fitful dozing, Kyo gave up and lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. Below, the sounds of the brawl had dissipated, and now it sounded like the only noises tonight would come from the other occupied rooms and their enamored inhabitants, of which Ren was more than likely a part of. Kyo briefly wondered if Ren found the vixen he was looking for, then shrugged it off then turned over to lie on his stomach. It probably didn't matter either way: as long as Ren "vented his frustrations", life would be easier for both of them.

Well, all three.

_No_, he told himself. _After tomorrow, it'll be down to two again…_ That part saddened him for an odd reason. He tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but the warped floor boards stuck up in odd places, jutting into his hipbone or his ribcage, and no matter what position he slept in he couldn't get comfortable. Sure, he'd be regretting this decision in the morning, but what did he care?

His eyes trained on the sleeping figure on the bed, who had turned over during the past few hours, and now she slept facing him. Kyo's expression softened; he knew it was wrong of him to think the way he was…but he really couldn't help himself.

No, you can, his conscience told him. After tomorrow, you can forget about her completely, and move on. The question was, did he want to? _You have no choice. You leave her off at the mountain, make sure she's safe inside, then you leave. Its as simple as that._

The black fox smirked at his own thoughts. _If only it were that easy_; he wouldn't deny that he'd gotten fond of her—he _couldn't_ deny it—in fact, Tristyn had grown on him. It was odd, he knew that. How often did a "vermin" and a "goodbeast" have a connection like this...whatever it was?

Kyo watched Tristyn sleeping, the black fox's pale eyes staring straight at her. Though Tristyn could feel his eyes upon her as she slept, it was more of a comfort that he was there, rather than unnerving. Tristyn stirred, suddenly waking. The heaviness of her eyes told her she needed more sleep, but some instinct was telling her to get up. She looked across the room at Kyo; the fox's ears perked.

"Did I wake you?" he asked quietly.

Tristyn shook her head, burrowing further under the warm covers. She yawned, "I don't know why, but I just woke up all of a sudden."

"It got quiet," Kyo said with a wry smile. A sliver of moonlight shone in through the one window in the inn's room, casting its light onto the twisted floorboards. Sure enough, the inn had gone silent, and Kyo was whispering. "I'm thinking the revelers had a bit too much grog and passed out already. I'm surprised that you were able to sleep through it all."

"After sleeping for so long in a slave pen," she explained quietly. "I've gotten used to all sorts of noise."

"Like snoring, whimpering," Kyo offered with a knowing smile, sitting up slowly and cracking his neck. "Sometimes kicking…"

"No," she said. "Screaming."

This stunned him momentarily. "_Screaming_?"

The mousemaid nodded. "Sometimes at night, I could hear Dinali's victims...their screams could be heard through the earth, and sometimes they were killed at night, beaten and flogged, and left to die so that the slaves would find that poor beast's body in the morning..."

Kyo simply stared at her, and he looked overwhelmed. He cursed under his breath. "I'm sorry," he said.

She gave him a confused look. "For what?"

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that. How did you become a slave anyway?"

As soon as he had finished speaking, Kyo regretted his question. Tristyn's expression changed to one of sorrow and she tore her gaze away from his, staring down at the moonlit floor. "I don't know. I don't know if I was born free or born a slave. Either way, I guess it doesn't matter," she stated, clutching the covers closer to her thin body.

Kyo frowned. "Are you cold?"

Tristyn shook her head, but tiny shivers still raked through her body. Kyo could even see her lip quivering. The black fox frowned again then stood, lightly stepping over to the bed before he sat on the edge of it. With no further warning, he picked her up and held her in his arms. "There, is that better?"

Tristyn felt her body quake upon first contact, but gradually her muscles relaxed as she was held in his warm arms. Tentatively, she rested her head against his shoulder and said in a childish whisper, "Yes, this is better." She closed her eyes and leaned into him.

Every shred of her common sense, every thing that she had ever been taught was telling her that this was wrong. She was not supposed to be sitting alone in a room above a corsair's inn with a male creature. She was not supposed to be on a journey with two male creatures. She was not supposed to trust foxes, or any vermin, or to believe anything they said. Though for all the voices in her head, one screamed out above all the others "I don't care!"

This was still wrong, though. She was a mouse, he was a fox. She had to stop thinking about this. He was a fox, he was a thief, a robber, a scalawag, he could kill her if he wanted to! He could do anything he wanted with her, and she knew it. So what was she still doing in his arms, being cradled like a child…those warm, comforting arms, and she could feel the firm muscles and lean tendons beneath the soft skin and silken black fur…

_Stop it!_ her mind screamed. _Stop_ _that right now!_

Tristyn took in a few deep breaths to try and put a stop to the blush rising on her cheeks…but as she did, his scent filled her nose, and she shivered against her will, a tingle like a tiny electric shock running through her whole body. The musky scent, earthy…like pine forests, fresh air, and clear waters, and a grass after a summer rain… Kyo's scent was rich and deep, earthy and calm, grounded…

She leaned her head against his chest and could hear a steady thumping sound. His heart, she thought. It was soothing to hear it, she quickly found out, and she closed her eyes and listened to the steady beating of his heart. This was strange, she thought to herself. Realistically, she knew every creature had a heart, but it was strange to think of a vermin having one. She didn't know why it was that way, but decided it didn't matter. This…was heavenly.

Tristyn had never felt the warmth of another creature's arms before, or at least what she could remember. This, though foreign, felt so…good. So…_right_.

"Tristyn?" he asked. "Is everything alright?"

The mousemaid inwardly cursed her stupidity, but nodded. "I…yes, yes, everything's fine. I'm…very tired though."

"All right," he said, releasing her and standing. "I'll let you sleep…" He stopped when Tristyn grabbed his paw. He looked down at the mousemaid, perplexed.

Tristyn's cheeks burned and she averted her gaze shyly. "Erm, do you…um…do you want…that is, the bed…instead…the floor?"

It took Kyo a minute or two to process what she was saying, and when he finally got it, it was as if somebeast had taken a heavy club and bashed him in the head. "Huh-whuh?" was all he could get out.

Tristyn sat up rigidly in bed, her eyes trained on the floor, and she was able to get everything out in one breath: "Do you want to take the bed because the floor can't be that comfortable?"

Kyo blinked in astonishment. "I…but I'm not letting you sleep on the floor!"

Tristyn's blush grew fiercer, and he could practically see the glowing red in the darkness. But even if the black fox couldn't see the blush, her silence told him all he needed to know. He blushed a little as well.

"You mean you…?"

Tristyn interrupted. "Its just one night. No harm done, right? Only a few hours…"

"Right," he said with a nervous smile. "Um, I…sure, I mean yes, yes, alright. I'll sleep with you…oh damn, that sounded bad, didn't it?"

Tristyn giggled nervously and nodded. "It did."

They stayed that way, sharing a long awkward silence, before Tristyn took the initiative and moved over on the bed. "Um, here…"

Kyo snapped out of his stupor and nodded, slowly climbing into bed next to her. "Right…"

As Tristyn shared her blanket with him, Kyo lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He didn't need to be reminded just how close the two of them were. the bed wasn't that big to begin with anyway.

What in the name of Hellgates was _wrong_ with him?

It wasn't like he had never shared a bed with a female before. Granted, most of those times had been less-than innocent, and _fine_, he'd slept with strangers before, women he had met off the street or in the middle of nowhere and it had never bothered him…but the thought of him sharing a bed with this mouse…

He needed to shake it off, and get over it. _Nothing_ was going to happen here. It was purely innocent. She wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep, and that was all _he_ really wanted. The fox was still perplexed by her brazen offer to share the bed, but, once again _you won't see her again after tomorrow. Just enjoy this while you can, and get over yourself_

He felt Tristyn roll over onto her side, facing away from him and he sighed. he tried sleeping on his side again, but now, he was wide awake. He couldn't believe this. He sat up in bed and rested his arms on his knees and looked around the room before his eyes settled on Tristyn.

The mousemaid slept peacefully, an innocent, child-like expression on her fair face. He needed to snap himself out of it. he needed to go to sleep, and forget this was happening. But as he watched her sleep, he began to notice things about her he had never noticed before.

When he had first met her, Tristyn looked the part of a slave: an old threadbare tunic barely covering her tiny body, which was skinny—too skinny to be healthy—and her brown fur was so full of dust, dirt and mud it was difficult to say when she had last bathed. But after that little swim in the river…

Her fur was not brown, he realized. More like a tan…_a_ _hazelnut color_. Hazelnut, yes, that sounded about right… Her eyes, so brilliant! The hazel, with the green rings around the pupil, and the honey browns in the iris…when angered, her eyes flashed so dangerously, it left chills run down his spine: but they were good chills.

Even her sweet little face was a marvel to him. He could see her profile in the darkness against the pillow and he smiled. She really did have a cute face and all her expressions were adorable. If he had to sum her up in one word, it would be: endearing. Simply, and positively: adorable, endearing, attractive…

His mind ground to a halt. What was he _doing_? Was he honestly and truly _lusting_ after a _mouse_?

_No, no I'm not. There's nothing wrong with admitting a creature looks good_, he thought stubbornly. He looked away from her for a minute, then laid down on his side, facing her. That was when his nostrils were invaded with the sweetest of scents: nothing typical, like roses. No, Tristyn's scent was…different. There was the light hint of lavender, and even a touch of spearmint. Her scent…fresh, clean, and uplifting. One sniff and he felt his troubles wash away like cool waters from a stream.

He couldn't help himself.

Kyo propped himself up on his elbow, leaned closer to her, then softly pressed his lips to her cheek. As he pulled away, he felt a smile tugging at his lips, then he shook his head to help him come to his senses and he laid down again, facing away from her. He curled up as best he could, and tried to sleep.

Tristyn on the other hand, had awoken when she felt his lips on her cheek. In awe, she brought her paw up to tenderly touch the spot where his lips had connected with her skin, and a strange feeling passed over her. Tristyn tried to ignore it, and succumbed to a fitful night of sleep, just as her bedfellow had.

* * *

As always, read and review, and PLEASE give feedback! 


	8. Chapter 8

Tristyn

Chapter 8

A/N: First, let me start off by saying how flattered I am from all this feedback! It's really special to me, and a bit overwhelming—I didn't expect people to like this story much…hell, I didn't expect you to like it at all! So I just want to thank each and every reader, and every reviewer. Thank you all so much! 

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Redwall or anything affiliated with it. Brian Jacques owns Redwall, and the _idea_ of Redwall. I only own this plot and these characters. They are all © of me, Luna Goldsun, and are NOT to be used without my permission. We clear? Yes? Good.

* * *

The quest to Salamandastron was not necessarily an easy one for Michael and Frey. Both knew that since they were young, they were prime targets for bandits, slave hunters, and generally any vermin that might have been lurking out in the forests. They had gone three days from Redwall, but had covered quite a bit of ground. Since both male creatures were in the prime of life and had their youthful energy, they didn't tire as easy as older creatures.

Frey lagged behind a little, letting Michael lead the way. The otter looked about the woods, unable to shake the feeling that they were being watched. He shrugged it off, and only assumed that it was his paranoia talking.

Michael paused and looked back at the scruffy otter and frowned. "Wot are ye doin', Frey? Yer holdin' us back! Come on, stir yer stumps."

Frey yawned and grumbled, "I'll stir yore stumps…"

"Ye say somethin'?"

"Nay, not a thing."

The mouse rolled his eyes and kept walking, trying his best to keep his spirits up. It wasn't easy, as a nagging thought in the back of his mind haunted him, cursed him and made him feel as guilty as a condemned beast. Frey was going against direct orders, following him like he was. The otter more than likely knew how much trouble he was in once he returned to the Abbey and to his clan. That is, if he returned. Michael humored the idea that they would be rovers together, find their own place in the sun and have many grand and glorious adventures.

_But_, the mouse reasoned, _Frey might not like that_. He'd noticed the otter looking over his shoulder a lot, back in the direction from which they had come. Michael inwardly sighed; the otter was feeling guilty for leaving, that much was certain. Finally, Michael sighed raggedly and turned around to face him.

"If ye feel so guilty, just go back! I c'n 'andle meself!"

Frey's eyes flicked over to the left suddenly, then he turned to Michael, throwing his arm around the mouse's shoulders, proclaiming loudly. "Wot? An' leave ye all by yore lonesome in the middle o' nowhere? Fergit it, matey; yore my messmate, and I ain't lettin' nothin' 'appen t' ye!" Then Frey leaned in closely, his lips barely moving as he whispered, "We're bein' tailed, mate. I can't tell wot it is, but it's big."

"So what do we do?" Michael whispered back.

"Keep walkin'…if'n 'e decides t' attack, we'll be ready."

Michael wanted to know how his companion could be so confident, and strained his ears to hear anything: pawsteps, heavy breathing, anything at all. He thought he'd heard something moving between the trees, and adrenaline began coursing through his veins.

"We should run," he whispered.

"No, that'll be stupid. If we run, 'e'll follow us!"

"Ye got yeself a better idea?"

Suddenly both of them gasped and fell back as a mammoth sword cleaved down onto the path before them, the pair falling back onto their rumps with a shout. Frey's eyes widened as the shadow of a huge beast reared up in front of them.

"Aye, matey, I've got a good plan…RUN!"

Both of them scrambled to their feet and began running as fast as they could. The beast gave chase, slashing his sword at branches and ferns that got in his way, the blade slicing through them like a hot knife through butter.

Frey grabbed Michael's arm, dragging him along the path, huffing and puffing with exertion, adrenaline urging him forward. Behind them, the beast crashed through the woodlands, gaining on them with every passing second.

Michael chanced a look over his shoulder and inwardly cursed. "Frey! We're not goin' t' make et!"

Frey panted as he ran. "Then wot do we do?"

Michael skidded to a stop, yanking the otter back to him. The mouse drew the Sword of Martin, his face set with grim determination. "We fight 'im. If we die, we die with honor."

Frey bit his lip, certain that this was indeed the end for both of them. He brandished his javelin, then drew his arm back, prepared to throw when the moment was right.

The huge beast bore down on them, his image only a silhouette to the young warriors against the setting sun to the west. Michael held his stance, took a deep breath and, scared though he was, raised the Sword of Martin to strike. "REDW—OOF!"

Frey jumped back a few paces, in shock, the past second but a blur, and it took him a moment to realize that the beast had pounced on Michael, and must have started torturing the poor mouse, for he was shrieking. Then Frey listened closer—Michael was shrieking alright, shrieking with laughter.

Everything came into perspective quickly when he realized that the beast that had been chasing them was in fact a badger—a huge one, garbed in a simple brown homespun tunic. The badger was grinning and mercilessly tickling the mouse, a wide grin on his striped face.

"Haha! I thought that was you, you little troublemaker!" the badger said. Michael squirmed and writhed, doubled over and breathless from laughing. "AHAHAHAH! Please… AHAHAH!" he gasped, "Please, no more!"

The badger grinned and conceded, then brought the mouse up into his huge and muscular arms, embracing him. "Ah, Michael! Heavens, its been seasons. Look how you've grown! Last I saw you," he said, releasing the now-grinning mouse. The badger held his mammoth paws a short distance off the ground, "Last I saw you, you were this big!"

Michael laughed. "Then ye've been away too long…" the mouse noticed Frey's consternation and instantly apologized. "Sorry mate, where are me manners?"

"You had manners?" the badger asked. Michael scowled and his old friend laughed.

"Like I was _aboot_ t' say…" Michael reached out his arm, indicating his companion. "This is Frey, me friend. Frey, this is Cedric, son of Carys Seren."

Cedric bowed his head slightly to acknowledge the young otter. "I see your tattoos make you a Wide River otter. Tell me, how is old Master Herryk?"

"He's…well…" Frey started, taken aback by the badger's size. Cedric could have easily stood a head above his mother, and was as strong and sturdy as an oak, the claymore laying by his side a fearsome piece of weaponry that gleaned gold in the setting sunlight. The badger had a single crescent-shaped scar on his right cheek, and a few other pink scars on his bare arms. They looked recent. "Sorry for me sayin' so," Frey continued, "But yew look too big t' be anyone's son."

Cedric threw his head back and laughed, and Frey could see the laughter lines around his eyes, though the badger warrior could not have been much older than 25 seasons…

"It's true, though I have grown in the past…how long has it been?"

"Eight seasons naow," Michael pointed out, then punched the badger's arm; Cedric didn't even flinch. "Ye said ye'd be back!"

"I did, and in fact, that's exactly where I was going. After eight seasons, I miss my mother terribly. Is she well?"

"Aye, an' damn proud 'o ye too! We 'eard aboot yer conquests in th' south…"

Cedric sighed, standing up and brushing off his knees. "Aye, conquests they were…and truth be told, I've done things I'm not proud of…"

"But yer a warrior!" Michael said. "Ye should be proud o' yeself."

Cedric chuckled good-naturedly and ruffled the mouse's headfur. "Pride goeth before a fall, Mickey," he said, using an old nickname for the mouse. Michael looked up at him, awe and wonder in his eyes. Frey understood immediately: the mouse positively idolized the badger, and the badger, it seemed, viewed the mouse as a younger brother. It was touching to the otter, and they seemed to have just the same friendship he'd shared with Erek, Herryk's son. Frey had looked up to Erek too, but for entirely different reasons. Erek was tall, sleek, strong and confident; Frey was small, scruffy, weak and most certainly not confident at all.

Cedric caught him staring. "Is there something on your mind, Master Frey?"

Frey shook himself out of his reverie. "Sorry, I…"

One look from the badger told him all he needed to know. Inwardly the otter sighed. He knew that look: pity. He'd gotten that same look enough times to know how to place it.

Cedric turned his attention back to Michael and picked up Martin's sword. "Now what are you doing gallivanting around Mossflower with this? You're easily four days away from Red…MICHAEL!" He gasped, then glared. "Are you running away _again_!"

"Again…?" Frey looked at Michael and the mouse flinched. "I woz gonna bring et back…"

"When?" Cedric demanded.

"When I find me place in th' world!" the mouse countered. "I'm sick o' bein' kept behind closed doors, protected like some…some…weakling!"

Cedric shook his head pityingly and sighed. "What did I tell you before I left to go questing? You're too young to know where your place in the world is; Michael, you're still young, only fifteen seasons! You're immature."

Michael's fur bristled. "I'm NOT immature!" he yelled. "I'll prove that!"

"You're not proving it to me now," Cedric pointed out, taking the Sword from the mouse. "You're certainly not acting like it."

Frey put his hand on Michael's shoulder to calm him down. Then he cast his gaze up to Cedric. "Wot are ye gonna do now?" he asked.

"I'm taking you back to the Abbey with me. It's not safe out here…"

"I'm NOT going back!" Michael said stubbornly. "I'll not go back until I've proven meself as a warrior!"

"You're much too young…"

"Martin was me age when 'e fought Badrang th' Tyrant! An' not much older then me when 'e fought the wildcats!"

"That's different…"

Frey thought about it for a moment before he openly challenged him. "'ow? 'Ow is that different?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Martin woz a warrior born, wotn't 'e? Look at Michael: 'e's got th' warrior spirit too…"

"That much is obvious," the badger noted. "But fifteen is still too young…"

Frey shook his head. "I woz seven seasons when they started teachin' me t' fight."

"But such is the way of otters. You need to learn to fight young—its necessary, since you live outside the abb—where did Michael go?"

Frey looked around, startled, not expecting the question. "Huh?" Then he noticed Martin's sword missing. Badger and otter looked up the path to see Michael running towards the west, facing the setting sun. Cedric groaned, "Blasted stubborn fool," he said under his breath as he gave chase.

* * *

Back at the Abbey, things weren't looking up either. Abbess Charity stood on the wall tops on that hot summer's day with the sun beating down on her, her paws hidden in her sleeves, looking out worriedly into Mossflower. She'd half-expected either Finn or Magnus to return with the young ones, but it had been five days, and nothing. She couldn't deny she was getting concerned. Had they fallen into some sort of peril? Had Magnus really done the unthinkable and harmed them in any way?

She didn't want to think of one of her creatures harming a fellow woodlander in any fashion, but, sadly, it had been done in the past. And Magnus showed just the kind of ambition—and perhaps madness—to do just that.

Something above her head alerted her and took her attention away from the woodlands. She saw a bird flit over her head, then land in front of her, cocking its head to the side. She instantly recognized him: Corbin, a robin that lived not too far away from the abbey. He often stopped in with news from around Mossflower—as he was quite the sojourner—and occasionally desired a treat of candied nuts for his services. He did nothing for free, so he was not especially well-liked by the abbess.

"Corbin…" she greeted cheerily enough, considering her feelings for him. "How good to see you again so soon…" _pfft, would it kill him to go more than seven days without a candied chestnut?_ she thought to herself. But as she waited for him to report, Charity noticed something…off. He was twitching more than usual, and looked frightened, staring over his wings. "Corbin," she said with authority. "What's wrong?"

Corbin twitched again, stuttering—something he _never_ did. He finally gasped out "Vermin!"

* * *

It had taken some time to get Corbin to calm down enough for him to stop chattering his beak in terror. The Abbey elders escorted him into Cavern Hole, had never seen a creature behave in such a way. Carys gave the robin a bit of chamomile tea sweetened with honey to calm his nerves and soothe his throat. After Corbin finished the whole cup, he gasped for air, and began saying quickly, "Vermin…vermin I see!"

"Yes, we know that," Charity said. "But where?"

"South! South south!"

"How far?" Brother Augustus asked.

"Not far. Not far! Two days! Two days!"

Carys looked concerned. "Two days march? Thank heavens the otters are here to protect us."

"How many vermin did you see?" Charity pressed the bird. Corbin started to flutter around the Cavern Hole, terror in his beady black eyes. He finally spun around, his whole feathered body shaking.

"Black…all black. Darkness! Darkness everywhere! Black sea of Vermin! Black weapons, dark motives…looka for fugitive! Looka to kill!"

Charity shared a look with the fellow elders. "If they're looking for a fugitive, it's none of our affair."

"Not so," Augustus disagreed. "If they are directed to Redwall, they may think we harbor whoever they are searching for."

"If they do," Carys said, "Then we'll have to be blunt and not show any weakness. We harbor no vermin here at Redwall. It has been this way for many seasons, as time and time again, vermin have proven they are not to be trusted by any means."

"So we deny everything we stand for simply by a creature's species?" Augustus questioned.

"Brother, we stand for helping a creature in need—provided they mean us no harm."

Augustus saw the flaw in her philosophy immediately, but remained silent. So many creatures nowadays felt the same way towards vermin. It had been a rivalry—or feud, rather—for untold seasons. One badger lord had been quoted in saying "Vermin are vermin, no matter what." And that was a feeling woodlanders had felt ever since. One vermin horde too many had accosted Redwall in the past, and that led to the all-or-nothing black and white thinking of the Redwallers. It was sad, really.

Charity however was lost in her own thoughts, her eyes narrowed. "Black sea of vermin…? What on earth does that mean?"

* * *

Cedric finally caught up with Michael and yanked the mouse back by his tunic. Michael let out a yelp of surprise and found himself hanging a few inches off the ground by the back of his collar. He fought and kicked, but the badger held him out of harm's way. Cedric huffed, and was clearly not amused. "So you steal the Sword of Martin and run away. And where would you be bound with it?"

Michael still struggled as Frey caught up with the badger, huffing and puffing. "I'm goin' t' Salamandastron t' find me fortune!" the mouse said, grunting. "An' if'n I 'ave t'…I'll go over th' western sea t' me homeland!"

"Not with Martin's sword you're not. As for the Mountain of Fire, there is nothing there for either of us." There was a slight disappointment in Cedric's voice that Michael missed, but Frey picked up on immediately. "Why's that? Yore a badger; shouldn't that be th' place for yew t' go?"

"It _would_, if two male badgers weren't currently occupying it."

Ah, so that was it. Cedric was like other male badgers—he was drawn to Salamandastron—but there was something in his way. Frey had heard Herryk speak of Lord Osono, who had occupied the mountain for nearly thirty seasons—longer than most badger lords. And apparently, he'd had two children, a son and a daughter, of whom Frey had heard very little. So suddenly Cedric's plan made sense: return to Redwall, since he had nowhere else left to go. And by the look of it, Cedric was not _exactly_ ecstatic about moving in with his mother…

"So…why don't yew show us t' Salamandastron an' then turn back t' Redwall?" Frey offered. Michael stopped struggling, catching on to his companion's scheme. "Aye! 'Twould be noble o' ye t' make sure we get there safe an' sound! Ye won't feel bad aboot us travelin' alone, we'll be safe, an' then ye can go wherever ye want to!"

"And risk having Osono sick his hares on me?"

"'E wouldn't do that…would 'e?"

The look on the badger's scarred face told both of them enough: Osono _would_ do just that. After gazing down at the young ones' expectant faces, Cedric finally rolled his eyes, released Michael, and stood up again. "_Fine_…I suppose I can walk with you as far as I can…but once I see a clear path to the Mountain's main gate, I'll leave you to your own devices."

Michael did a little victory dance. "Yes!"

Frey gave a small smile. "Thanks, matey…"

Cedric's eyes did not meet the otter's, as the badger gazed around the forest and settled on one spot in particular. Frey and Michael looked surprised to see the badger's face contort into a fearsome grimace. "Don't mention it…lets go."

Frey and Michael shared a confused look as they followed after the badger, who stopped to let them get in front of him. Michael noticed Cedric glare at something over his shoulder before taking his place at the back of the line. If he didn't know any better, Michael could have sworn his old friend was…protecting them.

And if so, from what?

* * *

Yards away, hidden in the undergrowth, Magnus felt his blood run cold from the murderous look in the scarred badger's eye. The otter warrior had certainly seen his share of badgers before, but this one…was without a doubt one of the more terrifying he'd seen. It was as if Seren's son knew why he was there…which of course was impossible. Cedric could not have known that Magnus was there. Realistically, that was inconceivable.

But the badger's instincts were dead on.

* * *

Cedric paid little more mind to the otter with murder on his brain. He had seen the otter trailing the two young travelers for the majority of the day, and luckily, he was a good tracker. Magnus was sloppy, and left a path so clear that a blind old mouse could have seen it.

And Cedric wasn't the only one who thought as such.

* * *

Finn finally found himself close enough to Magnus to have fired an arrow and strike the homicidal bastard in the back. His paws itched to unsheathe his twins knives strapped to his back and take him out immediately, but knew that would make him no better than Magnus.

The larger otter indeed had the strength and his size on his side, but his ambition—or rather obsession—could be both a strength and a weakness in him, if Finn played his cards right.

The otter chanced a look ahead and spotted him again: his son. He sighed through his nose. How could he have gone for so long without even acknowledging the kit's existence? Now Frey wasn't even a kit anymore. Finn had wasted all that time trying to forget the mistake he'd made fifteen seasons ago, that he'd missed out on the most important thing in a creature's life: being a parent.

It tore at the otter chieftain's heart every time he let the thought cross his mind, that he had caused the misery in Frey's life…the bastard child of an unwed mother, who had passed away in childbirth, they'd told him. Finn, because of his refusal to admit his mistakes, had lost everything that was truly important to him.

And now he needed to make up for it.

The otter chieftain's attention was captured as Magnus slunk off into the undergrowth, still following the young warriors…plus one. Finn thought he'd gone mad; was Magnus really so obsessed that he would attack them when there was a huge badger there to protect them? He secretly hoped not.

Once again, he gave chase; he gave himself no hopes or promises.

He had broken every single promise he'd made.

And hope had abandoned him a long time ago.

* * *

_A black sea of vermin…_

That phrase haunted Abbess Charity since she'd heard it from Corbin two days prior. But she never expected to be woken two days after the robin arrived with his disconcerting news to be woken up by the abbey bells tolling an alarm, and the otters on the wall tops raising a cry.

The red squirrel bounded from her bed and dressed quickly, rushing out into the hallway as fast as her aging bones would allow her. She immediately rushed outdoors and found Herryk and Gris standing still on the south wall top, staring out over the battlements. Charity climbed the stairs as quickly as she could, stopping just beside Herryk. "Herryk, what on…earth…" she trailed off and her jaw dropped.

The entire western plain and the path leading up to the abbey, was literally covered by a sea of darkness…and black vermin.

Rats, weasels, foxes and all manner of other creatures she had never seen before stood to attention, staring impassively up at them, their strange yellow eyes seeming to pierce their souls.

Charity sucked in a breath. Black sea of vermin… It was a horde. Great seasons, it was an entire horde of the likes she had never imagined. Each beast was garbed in black uniforms and armor, and their weapons were darkened with soot and smoke. Those creatures that weren't born with black fur had obviously dyed it such. In short, there was not a speck of light to be seen but for the summer sun glinting off the pale yellow eyes all trained up to her.

Gris caught her attention and pointed to the path. A tall black fox—an aging one, by the look of the gray streaks in his fur—stepped out from the mass of darkness and stepped forward, turning his slanted pale eyes up to her and the otter chieftains. He simply stared at them with an expressionless face for a moment or so, and it seemed to Charity he was waiting for them to address him.

She took a deep breath and began. "What business have you at Redwall?" There, that was polite enough.

The black fox didn't even blink, pausing a moment before he answered her in a clear, deep, and authoritative voice. Charity could tell instantly that this one was not used to being refused.

"Searching for my son, am I. I have traveled far too long in search of him."

"We harbor no foxes here at Redwall—and truth be told, I have never seen a fox quite like you."

The black fox seemed to find this amusing. "Nay, most beasts would say so. Have you any foxes at all?"

Had he not heard her? Charity repeated more firmly. "We do not cater to foxes, rats, weasels or any such animals here…"

"Any particular reason why?" he interrupted her. The abbess tried to keep her fiery temper in check.

"Such creatures have betrayed us in the past—we hold no trust for them now."

"Which explains the warm welcome my troops and I are receiving," the black fox said with raised eyebrow. "If you will not let me or any representatives inside your castle, then I will simply ask—and so help you if I receive no honest answer."

Charity's tail visibly bristled with barely controlled rage. How dare he threaten them like this! "We have seen no foxes in months!" she yelled down at him, her face set in a determined, no-nonsense expression. "And there are no foxes here! Now threaten us no more!"

The black fox was silent, glaring up at her, as if he were appalled that she had the nerve to speak to him in such a way. After a long tense moment, he alerted one of his aides, a black rat, and whispered a command to him. The rat nodded, then yelled over the horde in a strange tongue that Charity had never heard before. To her surprise, the horde fell into formation and began to march off.

The black fox was still glaring up at her. Finally he spoke. "I am Karnak, High King and Supreme Ruler of the Lands of Fire. Should you find my son, tell him to meet me along the western shore."

"And what is the name of your son?" Charity asked, now a little calmer now that the horde was marching away, and no longer threatening the abbey.

Karnak's dispassionate stare was replaced by a look she could not place. Was it rage? Annoyance? Maybe—dare she believe it—paternal worry?

"His name is K'yo-nak…but he goes by Kyo."

* * *

Yes,I know, evil cliffhanger. But Please, as usual, read and review! 


	9. Chapter 9

Tristyn

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: As always, I claim no ownership to Redwall or to the world created by Brian Jacques. Any of the characters here that you do not recognize from the books are purely of my own invention and are not to be used in a work of fiction or art without my consent. Thank you.

Author's note: PLEASE FORGIVE ME! And allow me a quick second to slam my head into my desk SLAM okay, I'm good. This semester has been absolutely insane, and Spring '07 ain't lookin' much better: Five upper-level English courses, gah! But, I'm home for Winter Break, so I might as well take advantage of the little break I get. Sorry for taking so long, I hope you all can forgive. Now, without further ado…

* * *

It had taken them less than half a day to reach the shore, and a full week to get to the point they were at, standing on the sea-cliffs about two miles from the mountain fortress of Salamandastron. Ren sat on a boulder, looking out over the sea and towards the mountain itself; he sighed, "Welp, there it is."

Tristyn nodded and looked at her surroundings. It was such a far cry from the deciduous forests, mountains and rocky cliffs that surrounded Dinali's fort. Over their week-long quest, they had seen the gradual change from fragrant and darks pines to leafy green trees to pines again. Kyo seemed out of his element the whole time, and Ren was jumpy as well within the pine forests, for reasons Tristyn never fully understood. She had been born in a place like this, or at least, she thought she had.

So much of her early life was a mystery to her. Her earliest memory was of warmth, a fire, a soft blanket tucked around her as a sweet voice sang in her ear. But it was so long ago, and she was so young, it had to have been her imagination, or simply a dream, and nothing more.

She was jostled out of her reverie by Kyo's paw on her shoulder. "Come on," he said. "We should get you to safety."

Tristyn nodded mutely, casting glances at the two foxes. Somehow, within seven days, she had come to rely and—dare she say it—trust these two. The fact they were foxes somehow no longer mattered; and she was surprised at herself to realize how much she was going to miss them.

"What will you two do after I'm gone?" she asked quietly. Ren cocked his head to the side in thought; Kyo was stony-faced and silent.

"Not sure," Ren said. "Maybe head further south, 'long the coast. See where that gets us."

"There's a few vermin settlements further south," Kyo said, barely any emotion in his tone. "And where there's a settlement, there's work for a thief like me."

Tristyn only nodded and took the first steps forward, down towards the mountain and beaches. The previous night spent at the Scurvy Gale led to very conflicting feelings: guilt, embarrassment, fear and strangely, comfort. Fear of Tarian Rhan and Grenn discovering them, the embarrassment from the "working girl" and what was foremost in her mind, sharing her bed with the black fox walking behind her.

Nothing had happened but sleep. They stayed on their respective sides, but for the one time he kissed her. That didn't add up. Why on earth would he kiss her? Was it all just some cruel joke to him? She sighed and continued to walk, lost in her thoughts.

A few paces behind her, Ren stopped Kyo for a moment. "Mate, I need t' ask…why did we do this?"

Kyo looked at him oddly. "What?"

"Why did we help her? She shoulda meant nothing to us. We coulda been like any other cruel, sadistic fox—robbed her, raped her, and left her for dead, if not kill her outright. Why did we help her?"

Kyo hadn't thought of that. Certainly he had been confused about the whole thing, and this he admitted to his partner, who scoffed. "This whole damn thing is confusing! I'm confused!"

"You say that like its difficult," the black fox smirked.

"Mate, I'm serious. You shared a room with Mini-Mouse over there last night…"

Kyo was immediately on the defensive. "How—"

"I saw you two leaving. What happened last night?" he demanded.

"Nothing happened," Kyo said.

"Bull shit, fox, I know you!"

"I wouldn't do that to her!" Kyo hissed.

"Why?"

"Because—" he stopped himself and took a deep breath to calm himself, "Forget it, just drop it."

"Kyo…"

"I said drop it!" he snarled.

Ren stared levelly at him, and Kyo squirmed a little inside. "You're trying to prove something," Ren finally said.

"That's ridiculous…" the other fox defended himself. But then he thought back to the previous evening. Those things Tristyn had said about vermin—his kind—struck him deeply. That's when he realized, much to his chagrin, that Ren was right. "Or maybe I was…I don't know. I'm beginning to think that I'm just trying to prove everybeast and everything wrong. Tear down old concepts and build new ones."

"Mate, ye can't tear down a fortress and rebuild it into an Abbey in one day," Ren said sagely. "Nobeast can change their minds that quickly. And a ferret don't change 'is markin's either."

"Not unless you skin him."

"Yes, but then you'd have a dead ferret and a reason to be thrown into an asylum."

Kyo cracked a wry smile and started to walk again, speaking in low tones back to his comrade. "I was trying to prove her wrong…she said things about vermin last night that, well, stung."

"Like I said, fox," Ren said, climbing over a rock and leaping down to a well-worn path. "It ain't gonna change. Lets just git her to the mountain, an' be on our merry ways."

Kyo looked straight ahead of him along the path and saw Tristyn, still garbed in his shirt, staring back at them with a wondering look. He sighed.

If he didn't get this over with, and soon, he felt like he was going to lose his mind.

* * *

Owen Fleetfoot leaned against the sill of the one window in Salamandastron armory, his brown eyes staring out over the beaches with mild interest. The young hare was well into his prime, and had already served four seasons in the Long Patrol. His light sandy-colored fur was riddled with scars from the many skirmishes he'd faced against vermin. Admittedly, those vermin weren't very good fighters; he would've given anything for a real challenge.

Behind him at the forge was his long-time friend, Brynmor Caden. Osono Caden's heir was large, but a little on the short side for a badger. He made up for it with the massive bulk of muscles, brute force and short fuse from his father. But, Brynmor was without a doubt a fearsome warrior, unmatched by any other known badger in Mossflower, living or dead. Or, so Osono proclaimed.

Bryn, as he was called, stoked the fire higher in the forge, sweat pouring down his long face. The badger smiled with satisfaction as he pulled out a long piece of red-hot iron and careful lifted it to an anvil. He slammed a mighty hammer down onto the hot metal, sparks flying wildly. The hammer fell time and time again, until the iron was laid flat.

Owen looked over in curiosity as the badger sighed with satisfaction and doused the iron in the water bucket. "Bryn, don't you want to bally reinforce that thing?"

Bryn sent a sideways glare at the hare. "Why should I? This is just a blade for a halberd."

"Aye, an' you'll need it fer battle, wot!" Owen pointed out. "The least ye can do is reinforce it!"

Bryn scoffed, pulling the cooling iron from the cold water. "Why bother? My strength can outlast and outdo any weapon!"

Owen fought the urge to roll his eyes. He and Bryn were friends, but he used the term loosely. Owen's father had been a good friend of Osono's, and a hero of the Long Patrol, but Owen had never known his father: he was killed in battle with a vermin horde when he was still a leveret. His mother Toreth, the mountain's cook, virtually forced the friendship on her son to the overbearing and arrogant badger, and Owen knew better than to talk back to his mother. There were just certain things that were unforgivable. Disobeying your father was one thing—disobeying and scorning your mother was another.

If only Bryn felt the same way about honoring females. The young badger was his father's son, the spitting image, in fact. But he had also inherited Osono's brash ways and arrogance.

Owen had never respected either of them. It was his hope that Anwen would succeed as Ruler of the mountain, instead of her brother. But there were hares who supported Bryn, more than those who supported his sister. Owen believed, however, that her supporters did so out of pity. _The poor gel…_

"How are your knives, old friend?" Bryn asked. Owen shook his head to get the cobwebs out. "Wot?"

"Those twin long blades. How are they?" Bryn asked crossly.

Owen was able to hide his disdain after many years of practice. "I'm reinforcin' them, makin' them stronger, old lad."

"You're a fool, Owen. You've no need for that."

"Yes, I do," the hare said sternly. "Ye forget I'm not a badger, Brynmor—I'm weak. I need strong weapons."

"Bah, you're a Long Patrol hare, and have the scars to prove it!"

"Aye, and also the blinkin' knowledge of what battle truly is, old bean. You haven't seen it once in your whole life," Owen argued. By this time, his patience had run thin, and didn't care what Bryn had to say.

The badger surprised him, however, when he sighed and nodded. You're right, old friend. I wish my father wouldn't hole me up in here."

"Your pater's got issues he needs to work out," Owen wisely said, though he chose his words carefully. "He refuses to accept you're grown—and you know the saying…"

"Two grown male badgers cannot occupy the same space for long, I know," Bryn huffed. "I wish he'd just step down and leave, so I can rule!"

Owen was unable to hide the horrified expression on his face; but this wasn't entirely surprising. Brynmor had always been brash, and was not afraid to voice his opinion, however misguided. "Bryn, how can you say that?!" he demanded.

"This mountain would be much better run by myself," the badger said arrogantly. "My father's time has come to an end."

Owen stood and glared. "The Badger Lord's time ends when he dies. And Great Forest willing, that won't happen for a long time."

Bryn glared down at the hare, his tone taking a dangerous turn. "Are you implying something, Owen?"

"Yes, _m'lud_, I am," he said boldly, mocking his title. "You're a sorry excuse for an heir, and you have far too much growing left to do."

"How dare—"

Owen ignored him and stormed from the forge, fuming. That insolent brat! Barely 18 seasons and he thought himself superior to all creatures! Owen fervently wished that Bryn _would_ see battle, and soon, if it would teach that little monster some manners and hard lessons.

* * *

Kyo sighed as they neared the mountain, casting another mournful glance in Tristyn's direction. She was equally subdued, her hazel eyes trained on the sandy ground before her. Her feet sunk into the hot beach, helping her with her secret wish not to abandon the friends she had made in the two foxes along her journey. Now that they were nearing the fortress, she was certain that they would remain resolute in their convictions that they would leave her there for her own safety, whilst they continued on with their lives.

Kyo stopped many yards from the main gate, as did the other two. All three companions silently stared up at the impressive mount, each unsure of what to say. Finally, Ren cleared his throat, "Well, this is it."

"Yes, it is," Tristyn agreed, running a claw through her short headfur. She turned to the two of them, and started slowly. "I…thank you, for…for everything."

Kyo interrupted her. "There's no need…" he paused. "Come on, lets get this over with."

He was cut off when an arrow was imbedded in the sand right by his footpaws. Tristyn and Ren jumped back in surprise and both looked up to the fortress. Ren cursed when he saw a number of long ears appearing at the windows. "They're firing on us!"

Kyo shook his head, then he suddenly recognized that arrow. "No, the arrow came from…" he trailed off, looking further down the beach. His face took on an ashen hue, then he grabbed Tristyn's arm, tearing off towards the mountain. "RUN!"

Ren swore, glancing back to see a terrifying sight. Coming out of the forests and mountains…was a sea of black. Vermin of every shape, size, and creed charged out of the cover

"Doesn't matter!" Kyo yelled. "RUN!"

Ren caught up with them, grabbing Kyo by the back of his tunic. "Fox, what in Hell's teeth are you doing?!"

"Running to the mountain to get Tristyn to safety, what's it look like?!"

"There's hares and three bloody badgers in there!"

"And a whole army of blood-thirsty creatures out here!"

Ren thought about his options. "Right…Long Patrol…weird freaky things…"

He and Kyo shared a look and nodded, reaching a decision. "We'll take our chances with the hares."

Ren cursed as a huge black weasel-like creature came out of nowhere, flinging two long curved knives. The brown fox took Kyo's sword and battled against him. The creature sneered and swept his leg out, tripping him. The large weasel held him at knifepoint, ordering the others behind him, "Get the other fox and mouse! Bring them alive!"

Tristyn huffed, "The hell with that," before taking off to the mountain, dragging Kyo with her. She grinned when the massive stone door at the fortress' entrance rolled open, five hares standing there, egging them on.

"We'll make it! Kyo, we'll make—ack!" She came to a stop just as Kyo dug his heels into the sand. He shook his head, releasing himself of her grip. "No, you'll make it. I need to go back, Ren needs me."

"The hares will help you," she tried reasoning.

"I don't have time for this, Tristyn!" he yelled. "Get in there, NOW!"

"But…"

He shoved her in the direction of the hares. "GO!"

Tristyn finally obeyed and ran to the entrance and into the waiting arms of the first hare. "Please help him!" she begged the scarred hare. "He needs help!"

Owen stared at the strange mousemaid before him, perplexed by her request. Behind him, Deirdre and three Long Patrol officers stared in near-horror at the size of the horde coming onto the beach. One monocled officer, Captain Howell, gasped, "By Jove…look at that!"

Tristyn turned round just in time to see the large weasel-like creature raise one curved sword high over his head to bring down on Ren, and she opened her mouth to scream.

Kyo slammed into the creature a split second later, tackling him to the ground. The black fox grabbed the other curved sword and held it at the creature's throat, screaming at him in a strange foreign language. The subdued creature stared back up at him with shock, then to Tristyn's surprise, flipped over onto his stomach and bowed low before Kyo.

The black fox groaned, knowing exactly what would come next.

"Mate," Ren asked slowly, eyeing the…whatever it was. "What is…"

"That's called a mongoose, Ren. They're weasels that kill and eat snakes," Kyo answered stiffly.

"Alright," Ren started. "By why is he…"

He was cut off when the charging ranks coming at them abruptly stopped then dropped to the ground, bowing. By now, the only person not utterly perplexed was Kyo. He groaned, muttering under his breath. "Please, not here…not now…"

The black fox turned to Ren and muttered through the corner of his mouth, "Get to the mountain. The hares will treat you better as a prisoner than these creatures will."

"Kyo, the point was to not get captured…"

The mongoose rose to his knees and reached for his sword, snarling, "How dare you talk so familiar with Pri—AGH!" the mongoose fell backward as Kyo cruelly kicked him in the face.

'_Shut your damned mouth, you spawn of frogs!'_ he screamed in his native language. Kyo turned back to Ren and outright ordered him, "Get inside the mountain, Ren, I can't guarantee your safety. I'll explain everything…"

A deep rumbling authoritative voice answered him, "Yes, my son, we would like an explanation."

Kyo stiffened, and Ren drew in a gasp at the sight before him. Standing taller than any fox before seen in Mossflower was Karnak, the desert warlord. A long curved sword hung from his belt, unsheathed and gleaming ominously in the bright sun. His piercing eyes were outlined in _kohl_, and his blackened leather armor hot in the midday sun, but he appeared not to care. The massive black fox's amber eyes were trained on the younger fox, ignoring Ren completely. '_Is he of importance to you?'_

'_Yes_,' Kyo answered swiftly in their flowing, graceful tongue. '_And_ _if he is harmed, retribution will be swift.'_

'_And the mouse?'_

_She is none of your concern, now back off old one!_ Kyo bristled.

"Now really, is that any way to speak to your father?" Karnak questioned.

Ren's head whipped around so fast he almost got whiplash. Before he could say anything, Kyo sent him the darkest glare he could muster; the brown fox got the point and scrambled to his feet, running straight towards the mountain.

Kyo turned back to his father. "What do you want with me? Why are you here?"

Karnak looked as if Kyo should have known the answers himself. "K'yo-nak, you know as well as the rest of our kingdom that you are my son and heir…"

"No, Keknak was your son and heir," he was quick to correct. "And you killed him!"

Karnak bristled slightly, the only sign of his rage was the fire in his piercing eyes. "Keknak was the bastard son of a palace guard and that whore of a queen!"

"SHE WAS MY MOTHER TOO!" Kyo screamed at him. "And you KILLED HER!"

Ren, Tristyn and the five hares watched the whole thing, the former two utterly speechless. Tristyn's mind raced. Kyo…a prince? A crown prince no less!

Karnak grabbed him by the front of his tunic and yanked him forward, hissing, "You know our laws, as the sovereign prince…"

"Laws that need to be abolished," he countered. "She was guilty of no sin."

"She sinned against a living god!"

Kyo fell silent, thinking of a retort. '_She loved you, you know_, he said quietly in their mother tongue. He would be damned to let his friends know all his darkest secrets. _The guard was at fault, not her. He took her in her bedchambers against her wishes, and she conceived. She loved you too much to tell you of her shame.'_

"Love, hah!" Karnak scoffed. "You think we are free to love? What is such a thing? Fairy tales and myth!"

"You are a living god—you ARE myth!" Kyo bit his tongue, thinking to himself, _oh SHIT_!

Karnak narrowed his eyes into dangerous slits as he glared at his son. "That mouth of yours…you were told by my priests and councilmen that sharp tongue would get you into trouble, K'yo-nak."

Kyo stared at him. "Maybe, but what good will a tongue-less king do for our country?"

"What good would any king do if he is absent from his country?" Karnak inquired. "That is why I am here…"

"I cannot assimilate the throne after your passing, you know that. I am not pure."

"Do you think the gods care of purity? You are my son…"

"No I'm not."

Karnak paused, then narrowed his eyes, this time in scrutiny. _'Explain,'_ he ordered.

Kyo's tail bristled. He'd always hated this, answering this king in such a manner. But he was a living god, and to disobey or dishonor him came to grave consequences, the least of all being shame; worst of all: death. "You killed the wrong prince," he said loudly, so the horde members closest to them could hear. "Azila, my mother, was raped in her bedchambers by Sek, the guard you hired to protect her. And I—not Keknak—was the result."

Karnak paused, studying him further. Then he scoffed. "Impossible!"

"No, she told me," Kyo said. "When I was young—to protect me from your retribution. When Keknak died, I fled. I feared your finding out…"

Karnak cut him off. "you have no proof."

Kyo looked levelly at him, "You have all the proof you need before you. Do I look anything like you? No. I carry my mother's eyes, and the guard's lithe frame. Face it, I don't even have your nose, old one!"

The dessert king suddenly backhanded him, seething, "How dare you speak to your king that way!"

"That's the way I speak to all murderers!" Kyo bit his lip when he realized what he'd done. He would have faced the perils of the afterlife if only to escape this moment.

Tristyn wasn't sure what was about to happen, but she sensed it wasn't good. The things the two foxes had been arguing over made very little sense to her. A living god? Infidelity? What was going on?

Owen pulled her further into the mountain, silently signaling a few archers. "Get ready to fire," he whispered.

Tristyn panicked. "No! You'll hit Kyo!"

"That's a chance I'm willin' to take," Owen said darkly.

Ren shushed them, "Wait a minute…look!"

Karnak and Kyo stood face-to-face, the younger fox taking a cautionary step back. It proved to be his undoing. Karnak unsheathed his sword with such swiftness and speed that it was near-impossible to tell what had happened…until Kyo let out an agonized cry, blood spurting from the slash across his face.

Karnak looked down disdainfully at him, sneering. "You are a disgrace…a vile worm. You are the lowest rank in our society—below slaves!"

Kyo placed a paw against his bleeding face and looked up fearfully at the warlord. He shook his head, blood falling into his eyes as he begged, "No…no, please!"

The hares watched, dumbfounded, as the fox leader, pointed his sword at Kyo's throat. "You are hereby stripped of your title and name! No longer are you to be called 'K'yo-nak, Prince of the Desert Lands'…instead, you are a nameless one! A faceless one! Soulless!"

Kyo sank back into the sand, his face ashen and blank, catatonic sheen over his eyes. Nothing else mattered to him, nothing would _ever_ matter…he was now doomed to walk the earth without an identity, until the day he died.

Karnak spat on him, a final humiliation, before turning on his heel. _'Leave him alive,'_ he ordered his soldiers. '_He must live with his shame as a bastard.'_

* * *

Tarian Rhad and Grenn witnessed the whole scene unfurl before them like a sail in the wind. Both beasts, plus their group of trackers, were completely dumbfounded. Their ship was moored in the safety of an alcove, just beneath the cliffs, and Dinali's team was hidden in the foliage of the pine forests.

Grenn stared wide-eyed at the sight. "Cor…I ain't never seen so many beasts…I dunno wot th' bleedin' 'ell a few of them is!"

Tarian's grey eyes were trained on the leader of the black horde of vermin as he stormed away from the front. "He looks very familiar…"

"Wot's it matter?" Grenn argued. "They made it 'ere before we did, so our chances are lost!"

Taro, the rat cartographer and astronomer (and sometime astrologer) shook his grey head. "Not true. What we have here is a useful ally. These creatures, strange though they are, may give us the intelligence we need."

Tarian nodded, the vixen pondering their situation. Taro usually was the voice of reason, but instinct told her to play it safe.

"We'll report back to Dinali," she said. "I'm not making a move unless he says so. Besides, we don't know if these creatures will kill us as well…and I've got bad feelings about their leader."

The rest of the band nodded their heads in silent agreement. The size of the horde was one thing; the myriad and the strange, fearsome weapons, as well as the color of their armor and coats were another thing entirely.

"They look like demons," one tracker, a stoat, said.

Tarian paused for a moment, considering her options. Finally, she turned to Taro. "Is there anything in the star charts that tells of this?"

Taro considered the question for a moment before answering. "I would have to check the charts from last night," he answered. "But I believe they would have mentioned something like this…"

_Of course they would_, she thought skeptically. The last thing she needed was some superstitious nonsense convincing her master that invading Salamandastron was still a good idea. With this horde of black-furred vermin, Dinali's plans were still up in the air.

"We're going back," she stated with determination. "He trusts my judgment, and if he doesn't, I'll take the punishment. Get your things and lets go. We need to report to him."

* * *

Deirdre was the first to speak after the horde fell back from the main gate. "Wot just happened?"

Captain Howell, the monocled, mustachioed hare, shook his head. "Vermin nonsense, wot! Blasted superstitions!"

The Major, a petite middle-aged female named Mercedes, stared out at the black fox crumpled on the sand. Though smaller than most hares, she was easily the most celebrated officer of the Long Patrol to date. She was renowned her her battle tactics…as well as her compassion.

"Bring him in for questioning," she said. "Lieutenant Merrick, would you and Owen escort him and his friend to a holding cell?"

"Holding cell?!" Ren protested.

Mercedes silenced him with a glare, her strong yet feminine voice booming with authority. "Its more for your protection—If Lord Osono knew vermin were running free around his mountain, he'd skin you alive." The tone in her voice left no room for interpretation; Ren gulped.

Owen released Tristyn's arm and sighed. "Major, is there really a need…"

"The foxes are obviously not allied with those…" she paused, staring at the retreating backs of the black horde. "Whatever they are out there. They are in as much need as we are. They could prove useful."

The conversation was lost on Tristyn, who stared out at Kyo's still form. The fox hadn't moved since his king had berated him, and she was beginning to get worried. Denying sense and reason, she rushed out to him, her footpaws kicking up hot sand. She fell onto her knees next to him, looking up into his face. She gasped.

The cut was far more savage than she had thought, running from his right ear down to the very tip of his jaw. Blood had seeped down his front and stained the sand beneath him, and the bleeding had slowed, some clotting partial visible.

She shook him gently. "Kyo…"

He didn't answer her. She tried again, "Kyo, please, we have to go inside, its not safe!"

He didn't move. He opened his mouth to speak, and she strained her ears to hear him over the surf. "Who are you looking for?"

She looked at him strangely. "You of course!"

"I am not the one you speak of. I am nothing. Soulless…"

Tristyn huffed and stood, paws akimbo. "Kyo, stop this nonsense! We need to get in—" a paw on her shoulder silenced her. Ren, Owen, and the young Lieutenant Merrick looked down at him and shared a sigh.

Ren gently lead Tristyn away from the other fox as the two hares lifted him and half-carried him inside the mountain fortress.

"Ren, what's wrong with him? He can't honestly believe this 'soulless' nonsense, can he?" she begged.

Ren watched after his friend and sighed, leading her back to Salamandastron. "I dunno, lil mouse…I dun rightly know."


	10. Chapter 10

Tristyn

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: once again, no ownership to Redwall, belongs solely to Brian Jacques, and I am using his world purely for creative expression. All characters not recognized from the books (ie, original characters) are not to be used without my permission. Thank you.

A/N: Once again, excuse the huge lack of updates. Five English courses have been eating up most of my time. By summer, I should have more time to continue this. Not to mention, like an idiot,I decided to take on NaNoWriMo this year (don't know what it is? Google it). So, at least I got this out. Enjoy!

* * *

To say Tarian was worried about her warlord's reaction to their news was a gross understatement. Dinali was not going to be happy to hear that someone else had beat him to the punch as far as Salamandastron was concerned, but Tarian knew it would be best to mention that the Black Horde (as she had entitled it) was nearly ten thousand strong. Too large a force for Dinali to take on with his meager army.

She and Grenn stood outside in the courtyard of the fort, both beasts looking at each other, sharing the same nervous look. Grenn was the first to speak, whispering, "So…'oo wants to tell 'is lordship?"

"Neither of us, naturally," she retorted, her pale grey eyes roving over the compound. In the week they had been gone, the slaves had completed much of the outer walls of the fort, and though the fort itself was constructed of wood, for now, she knew that soon, with Dinali's plans of conquest, he would construct a great castle on this spot, or near enough to it.

But her master's plan was to raid Salamandastron, kill resisters and enslave the others. The badgers, he knew well enough, would never submit, and to kill them would sacrifice a good number of soldiers. Not that Dinali cared, surely.

Tarian sighed. Grenn spoke up, "Yew should tell 'im. 'e likes yew more."

"What makes you think that?"

"'e hasn't threatened yew yet."

_Good point_, she thought. "Alright, let's get this over with…" She pushed open the oaken doors that led down into the underground compound, where the heart of the fort lay. One day, this place would probably be used for only storage, but for now, it was used to this purpose, but also for guards' barracks, armories, and the quarters of the generals and the warlord, of course. Tarian was fortunate enough to have a room to herself, but as the chief advisor and assistant to Dinali, her job was pivotal, and required her to stay close to her master…closer than she would have liked. Dinali once proposed to have her room situated right next to his, with a door adjoining the two. Tarian had wisely advised against it, claiming that his lordship would not want to risk another beast getting so close to him as he slept. In his present place, at least he was protected by his own solitary confinement.

After traveling three stories down into the cold, dark earth, she and Grenn came upon the caverns that made up the strongest part of the stronghold. These caves had been discovered purely by chance as the slaves dug for the fort. One slave had been lost as he fell to his death after cracking through the limestone, but it was a small loss. One less mouth to feed, in an area where food could be scarce.

She couldn't help but admire the subterranean fortress, more like a palace with the myriad crystals embedded in the cavern walls, reflected by the torchlight casting a rainbow of colors all over. In the middle of the cavern was a natural underground reservoir, full of fresh, clear water. The torches reflected off the unnaturally still water, an astonishing natural mirror that made the stalactites appear to be growing out of the floor: a remarkable view, through and through.

She took no more notice of the storerooms in other caverns, rough signs above each one—she saw no need for them, since very few of the horde members could actually read—and was reminded just how shrewd her leader could be.

Insane Dinali might have been, but smart he most certainly was. He was aware of the necessity of these caves and the fresh water. He used the caves to grow mushrooms and other vegetables that could tolerate the cold, damp, dark climate. This, he felt, would serve them well in event of a siege.

Finally she and Grenn came upon his quarters. Tarian took a deep breath and walked right in, not bothering to knock. Dinali was seated at a pilfered desk, which appeared old and well used—a scholar's workplace. Charts and maps were laid out before him, a tankard of ale within arms reach. Every candle and torch was lit, which Tarian felt was a waste, but knew necessary, especially down in these depths.

Dinali looked up sharply as she entered. "What in Satan's name are you doing back so soon?! I gave you a month!"

"My lord," Tarian gave a quick bow. "We have urgent news that we need to tell…"

"Don't waste my time vixen, out with it!"

Tarian quickly began, "We arrived a day early to Salamandastron, and began scouting about, as were your orders. The second day we were there, we were awoken by a rumbling…"

Dinali arched an eyebrow, casting a glance at her. "Rumbling? If that mountain is becoming a volcano once again…"

"That's not possible, sir. It would have made things easier for us…"

"Undoubtedly."

"It was another horde."

He paused, staring at her. The silence made her uncomfortable. "How many?"

She took a deep breath and swallowed. "Ten thousand."

Dinali let out a loud expletive. Grenn tried to quell his raging anger, if only to provide himself as a whipping boy. "Lordship, if'n it 'elps, the entire horde ain't from around these parts…"

Tarian nodded. "Every soldier—for they are indeed well trained, from their battle formations—is black in color, their armor black, sir, it was as if it were a living black sea."

Dinali's expression changed, from confusion, to recognition. "Karnak."

Tarian was surprised. "Yes, that was the warlord's name…"

Dinali sneered, "He's no warlord, calls himself a living god…"

Grenn answered, "Aye, we 'eard that part…an' 'e disowned 'is own son, too."

"Excuse me?"

"This Karnak is apparently the father of that black fox we tried to hang," Tarian explained. Dinali looked very surprised, "Indeed?"

"Well…I think so, the fox—Kyo'nak, he was called—claimed he wasn't Karnak's son…" she paused when Dinali began to look confused. "It's a long, convoluted story, lord," she quickly finished.

"I couldn't tell," he said sarcastically. Dinali sat back on his stool and thought for a good long moment, but Tarian could easily see the gears turning. Finally, he spoke, but not to them, as he formulated a plan. "Karnak wouldn't have much reason to take the mountain, unless he was planning to expand his empire…but no empire that big could ever keep together…"

"Too much territory to govern," Tarian nodded. Dinali nodded in agreement, "And his only real motivation is looking for his heir, who he disowned…he has no reason to stay. But…" he paused.

After a time, Grenn pressed, "But…?"

Dinali, surprisingly, didn't reprimand him. Instead, a cruel smile slowly grew on his face. "I got it. Tarian, prepare a ship—tomorrow, we sail for Salamandastron."

Tarian blinked in surprise. "What?"

Dinali smirked and stood, rounding the desk to stand in front of her. "Think of it a moment…why should I sully my paws when I can have another force do it for me?"

"You mean to betray him," she finished.

"Aye, naturally. Now, we need to get going, to extend the olive branch, as it were."

Grenn looked a little bit confused. "But where we gonna find an olive tree up 'ere?"

Dinali groaned, then slapped him on the side of the head. "It's called a figurative expression, barnacles for brains! Tarian, get a crew together…and for hell's sake, leave this pea-brain here."

Taking this to mean she was dismissed, Tarian bowed and walked out with Grenn, closing the door to Dinali's chambers as quietly as she could. After they were far enough away from the ferret's quarters, Grenn nursed his aching head, but grinned stupidly, "That went better th'n we thought."

Tarian snorted, and for once, was glad to carry out one of Dinali's orders.

* * *

At the Black Horde's encampment by the Fire Mountain, later that night, Karnak was seated in front of a roaring fire, surrounded by his most trusted generals. An assortment of strange creatures never before seen in Mossflower congregated around the fire, listening in on their leader's plans.

Karnak drew idle diagrams in the sand as he spoke off-handedly. "This place is strange and foreign, but it is rich in food and clean water. I can see a grand future in attaining this place…"

One of his generals, a fennec fox named Sefu, spoke up, offering his input. "Maybe so, your holiness, but it is so far away from our Mother Land. How can we hope to control these creatures here, when they are so hostile?"

Karnak scoffed. "Soft-hearted fools who believe in peace and justice for all…what frivolity! There are so few creatures on this earth who deserve it."

A mongoose named Sekani, a little farther down nodded in agreement with the rest of the generals; to do otherwise was defying their god and king. "Only those who fight for such freedoms, as you have done my lord and king, are truly worthy of honor and glory."

Karnak didn't nod, but acknowledged the mongoose with a glance. Then the golden eyes flicked over to the mountain that loomed high above their heads. The black fox king smiled slightly. "If only…"

"Sire?" a jackal, Gaji inquired.

Karnak rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This mountain…an edifice so impressive must have great stores of treasure…and not to mention make an impressive summer palace, to escape the desert heat."

Sitting beside Karnak was an equally strange creature to Mossflower, but stranger still to Karnak's horde of males: a female fennec, Shafira, who, like Tarian, served as his advisor. Shafira, unlike the generals, was no fool—she recognized that Karnak was no living god. Shrewd and calculating, she personified the slippery character of the cobra, but coated her words with the sweet birdsong of a warbler. The fennec was garbed in black-dyed linen, worn as a tunic, a red sash of light cotton wrapped around her body and covering her head as a veil. She wore gold bangles on her wrists and ankles, and the many necklaces and rings on her person provided evidence of another role she played in Karnak's court…and in his bed.

Sitting on her right side was a rare beast: a naturally black jackal, Amon, the best assassin and secret soldier to Karnak. The jackal's amber eyes were penetrating yet deep, allowing no emotion to be witnessed in them. He employed a strange curved dagger as his favorite weapon, and preferred his assassinations to be up front and personal. Many considered him suicidal, and he was far from that—he was high.

Shafira inched closer to Karnak, resting her head on his knee as a sign of reverence; the other males around the fire averted their gazes out of respect. The fennec smirked and sat up, nuzzling her king. "Sire…if it is this mountain you wish, then it is in the best interests of the gods to ensure your success…"

Karnak sighed, "What payment do you want, Shafira?"

"Payment?" she asked quizzically. "No payment is ever required my lord, my king…to know the pleasure of serving you…" her paws dipped close to a sensitive area, "…is all the payment I need."

Karnak arched an eyebrow with interest. He looked about at his generals, posing the question, "If I wish for this mountain, could you deliver it to me?"

Gaji spoke for all of them: "Until the last breath, sire, we will fight for what is yours by right."

Karnak allowed himself a small smile and gazed back up at the mountain. He smirked, "Then it shall be mine."

* * *

Tristyn was overwhelmed by the events of the last two days. Since coming to the mountain fortress of Salamandastron, she had been fed, bathed, clothed in a new green dress—which she hated, despite its richness—and had been given the best treatment of her life. The hares of the Long Patrol were especially kind to her, and treated the former slave as an old friend rather than what she considered herself as: a refugee.

The mouse sat in the dining hall, alone but for a few younger recruits farther down the long tables from her. Her food sat untouched in front of her, though she was hungry, she couldn't stomach anything. She was full of worry for her friends, whom she hadn't seen since they'd been brought in.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and the mouse looked up to see Major Mercedes taking a seat next to her. "You must eat, m'gel," the hare said simply, "Ye not much more than a twig at the moment. So skinny, poor thing."

"Have no pity for me," Tristyn said. "I don't want it."

"'Tis not about pity," Mercedes said. "The other officers expressed concern over you."

"And what of my friends?" Tristyn asked. "No concern for them? Or are you all through torturing them for information they don't have?"

Whatever the female hare expected the mouse to say, it certainly wasn't that. "How can you call them 'friends'? They enslaved you, treated you poorly…"

"I never told you where I really came from, have I?" Tristyn sighed, "I was a slave, but not to them. I have scars from whippings, beatings, and worse. Those foxes were the first to ever show me any form of kindness. For seven days, they led me to this place…"

"They did, did they? Ever learn why?"

Tristyn paused; she had been wondering that herself. "I think Kyo—the black fox—he has some form of honour code."

Mercedes shook her head. She reached for a nearby pitcher of cold mint tea and poured two mugs for the both of them. "We questioned that one; got only mumblings from him. Nonsense about losing his soul, a living god, and gobbledy-gook. His mate said that he's never seen this Kyo act this way before."

"What could he bothering him then?" Tristyn wondered aloud.

Mercedes shrugged, "Most likely some silly vermin superstition, they're full of them."

"He's not a vermin," the mouse said coldly. "Don't you ever call him that again."

Mercedes' mug was halfway to her lips, but she set it down. The hare looked bemusedly at the mouse, wondering, "My goodness you make your opinion known quite well. What brought on this belief? How are you to trust either of them?"

"I don't know," Tristyn said resolutely. "Mayhap it's the fact that they never once harmed me, never once tried to take advantage of me. When we made it here, they ensured my safety first, caring little for their own. If you ask me, it sounds like they are more like woodlanders than vermin."

Mercedes was silent, mulling over the mouse's words. Finally, the hare took a sip of the mint tea and set the mug down. "I'd watch my words around the Badger Lord when you finally meet him," she warned. "He hates vermin with a passion, and it's a small wonder why he's done nothing to your…friends, yet." She let the last word hang in the air, emphasizing the point.

Tristyn looked down at the table then back up at Mercedes. "I want to see them," she said with strong conviction in her voice.

"The badgers?"

"No, the foxes."

"I can't promise that."

"I just want to know that they are treated well," the mouse said.

"They are treated as well as any prisoner," Mercedes explained. "At least we treat them better than their own kind would."

"Their own kind tried to hang Ren for piracy, and Kyo for no real reason except that he was found with Ren."

"Then we treat them quite well," Mercedes said with a nod. "The black fox received treatment for his wound, but his spirit is the most damaged. Whatever rhetoric that warlord used on him, had some deep effect."

"What kind of effect?"

"Haven't the foggiest, m'gel. I know little about how verm—_their_ minds work."

Tristyn looked back at the stern face of the hare, noting the strength in her features despite her diminutive size. The mouse found that inspiring; here was another creature like herself, small but strong-willed. Perhaps if they got around their differences in opinion, they could get along. "If I see them, perhaps I can persuade them to speak more. You would get better answers…"

"You don't know what kinds of questions we've asked."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "They would be more cooperative in every way if I was an intermediary."

Mercedes looked at her, surprised. She asked, "Not to pry, but can you read?"

"No."

"Write?"

"Not a day in my life."

"You sound quite eloquent for a slave, she said. "It's rather impressive."

Tristyn's ears colored red, but she said nothing. She pushed her food with her fork, then set it down. "I want to see my friends," she repeated.

Mercedes sighed. "Very well, follow me."

* * *

Ren wasn't fond of prison cells. Normally it involved torture, and cellmates. Those cellmates often weren't the nicest. As far as cellmates went, he'd rather have a silent catatonic friend than a big brute that could fold him five ways and do some not-so-nice things to him.

The fox looked over at the black fox curled up in the corner, a blanket wrapped around his lithe body. Ren lounged back on his cot—he was surprised to have gotten one—glancing occasionally at his catatonic friend. The mumblings in the middle of the night didn't help the brown fox's mood in the least bit, nor to subdue his worry.

His guards weren't so bad. The one hare, Owen, at least check in on them every hour or so, to see, probably, that Kyo hadn't snapped. Judging by the incessant mutterings in his mother tongue, Ren was certain it wouldn't be that long.

Owen's friendly face showed up at the barred window in the heavy oak door. "'Lo, lads," the hare greeted. "Brought some chow and a visitor."

Ren sat up and walked over to the door, reaching for the tray as Owen passed it to him through the half-opened door. "Thanks mate, best grub we've 'ad in a while. Now 'oo's the visitor? Badgers decide whether we should hang yet?"

Owen shook his head, "That's pending. Your visitor is much more understanding."

The door opened wider and Ren set the tray down on the floor. He tore into some bread and sent a mock-salute to Tristyn. "G'day, mousie."

Tristyn smiled thinly. "Well, you look healthier, at least."

Ren smirked. "If'n I'd known about woodlanders sooner, I'da been captured a long time ago. If this is torture, lay me out of the rack!"

Tristyn smiled. She'd come to miss the brown fox's humor. She turned to look at Kyo, whose golden eyes were widened, regarding her warily. She could have sworn he was shaking. "Hello Kyo, how are you—"

"Not Kyo," he sharply. "He no longer exists. I'm Nameless One…bastards don't deserve names…worthless…all are worthless…none exist…lowest of the low…"

Ren looked back at Tristyn, "'e's been like this since we got 'ere. Dunno what the bloody 'ell 'e's goin' on about."

"Is it because of what that…that warlord said to him?" she asked, momentarily forgetting Karnak's name. She also wondered if incurring the name of the one who caused her friend so much pain would send him over the edge.

"Mebbe," Ren shrugged. "they still out there? Can't tell from th' window."

Owen answered him, "They are, just over the dunes and towards the pines. We can see them from the top of the crater."

"They're daft if'n they think they can attack this place."

"They're foreigners, I'm sort of counting on that, wot!" Owen grinned maliciously. Ren cracked a smile, "Saves us some work, eh?"

"What work?" Tristyn joked. "I haven't seen you do an honest day's work…ever!"

"Oi! I brought you fish!"

"I said 'honest'."

She and Owen laughed while Ren scowled. The fox shrugged again, brushing it off and tearing into the fish. He licked his lips on the salted fish, "Wot's that word you long-ears use? This fish is…"

"Spiffin'?" Owen offered.

"Aye! That's the word! Flippin' good!" He tore into the food like a starving animal, setting aside the other plate. He looked back to Tristyn, who knelt beside him. "Try feedin' Princey-boy over there, he ain't touched 'is food yet."

Tristyn tried not to look worried, but scooted over to the black fox with his plate in hand. "Kyo…"

"Not Kyo."

"Fine, Master Not-Kyo," she said impatiently. "You need to eat."

"soulless ones deserve no food…only deserve death…"

Tristyn thought of an idea, hoping it wouldn't be too much of a shock to him. She gently caressed the side of his face and the black fox looked at her, completely startled. Tristyn smiled sweetly at him, "You may not have a name, but that doesn't change the fact you are my friend. Close your eyes."

He stared at her, uncertain.

"Close your eyes, please," she repeated, softly and gently, her hazel eyes looking back into his. Something in the back of his mind clicked on, and he stopped shaking long enough to relax.

The fox slowly did as told, clenching his eyes shut, the blanket slipping from his shoulders a bit. Tristyn saw he was still wearing his blood-stained tunic and felt pity for him. She'd need to get some clean clothes for him. "I want you to imagine all the good times we had together," she instructed him softly, taking his paw in hers. "The nights by the fire, telling each other stories, exchanging jokes, the time Ren stole those fish, and we defeated that adder together…we were a team, Kyo…you can trust me…"

The black fox didn't know what to expect from what the mouse had told him. Then something pressed against his lips; instinctively, he parted his lips and accepted the strange wet object into his mouth, then realized it was hot and…slimy.

He coughed, wanting to spit it out. Tristyn held his jaws closed, "Chew it and swallow it, the fish is good for you."

The fox fought back his gag reflex and started to move his jaws, chewing on the tender fish, then finally swallowing it. He made a face like a child tasting a much-despised vegetable, staring incredulously at Tristyn. She looked satisfied, "Well, it's a start. How do you feel?"

His stomach was churning from the fish in his system, and he felt like being physically ill. Tristyn held up the loaf of rye bread and broke off a piece, dabbing it in the lentil soup on the plate. She held it up to his lips and he turned away. She turned his head to face him and said strongly, "If you will not feed yourself, then I will."

The fox once known as Kyo grasped her wrist quickly; both Ren and Owen made a move to help her. But the black fox took the piece of bread from the mouse's hand.

"I can feed myself," he said stubbornly. He dragged the plate closer to him and started to slowly feeding himself, turning away and staring down along the wall. Tristyn sat back on her haunches with a satisfied smile, which she sent back to the hares and Kyo's cell mate.

Ren looked more relieved than the hares did, and he slowly crept over and drew Tristyn away from the black fox, whispering, "Ye might want t' leave 'im be…I'll keep an eye on 'im."

"I'll be back," she said resolutely. "He needs his friends."

"Easy fer you t' say," Ren quipped, "Yer not livin' with 'im."

Tristyn allowed the brown fox to hand her over to Owen, who escorted her out. She looked over her shoulder at Ren, "I'll plead your case to the Badger Lord, try to get you out of there."

Ren shook his head, looking back at his cellmate and back at her, "'S not me I'm worried about Trissy."

"He needs a healer, Ren, he can't stay in here and rot."

"'e ain't. Least 'e's eating," the fox said. "I'll let you know 'ow 'e does. Yew jus' rest up an' keep eatin', mini-mouse. Ye still too skinny fer me likin'."

Tristyn had never seen this side of Ren before, but she wasn't complaining. Something about the situation made her wonder whether Ren felt it was his duty to take Kyo's old position, to stay calm and have assurances ready when needed. The vulpine jokester seemed the least likely candidate for the job, but considering their mutual friend was still in a state of shock, the role needed to be filled by someone.

Tristyn nodded to Ren and allowed herself to be led down the hall, resolving to be back as soon as possible.

* * *

Lord Osono Seren stood at the top of the mountain's crater with Howell by his side. The Badger Lord's fur took on a silvery sheen with age, and showed in little places, by the wrinkles around his steely eyes and stern maw, but the muscles on his arms and chest were starting to show wear from lack of use. Both he and Howell knew the time of Osono's sunset would soon be upon them.

Osono finally spoke, his deep rumbling voice having a slight wispy rattle in his chest, "I swore I would never die an old one lying prone in his bed. My deathbed will be on my shield."

Howell took off his monocle and polished it on the chest of his uniform. "Rather good spot o' luck these blighters decided to show then, wot?"

"Brynmor is old enough to take over my throne, after my death," Osono said. Howell caught the hesitation in his tone.

"M'lud?"

Osono sighed. "He has never seen battle."

"Neither 'as yore daughter Anwen."

"That was intentional. Battle is no place for women."

"Don't let Mercy 'ear you say that, sah," Howell joked. Osono smiled half-heartedly, "No, she is the exception, not the rule."

"Sah, if I could be frank a moment."

"Proceed."

Howell replaced the monocle over his eye and sent his commander a look, "It sounds t' me that ye keepin' yer daughter from the battles is protectin' her. I know ye care deeply for yore children, but if'n its fine for Brynmor t' face battle, why not yore daughter?"

"Anwen's disposition is poorly suited for the Hell that is warfare," Osono said sternly.

"And this 'as nothing t' do with her mother's death, I wager," Howell surmised mordantly. Of all the hares in the mountain, he was the only one who dared to speak to the Badger Lord this way. He wasn't much different from Owen, and the hare started seeing more and more of himself in the younger warrior

The only indication that this stung was a slight narrowing of the badger's eyes. "She would have been a fine warrior, if not for her delicate condition, but our daughter…"

"Was never trained, so how would we know, wot?"

Osono sighed through his nose, staring at the camp of the Black Horde. The massive white tent at the rear stood out like a bright star on a moonless night, the fabric painted in bright reds, blues and gold. Strange symbols and ancient spells were written at the tent's entrance, and Osono knew this was the dwelling place of the warlord.

"These are unusual beasts," he said after a long pause, completely changing the subject. "Very unlike other hordes. These are trained soldiers, highly disciplined, I don't know how to deal with this."

"Quite unusual sah," Howell agreed. "We've never 'ad to fight a force like our own."

Osono's eyes scanned the army at his doorstep and felt a chill run up his spine. This surprised him. How many battles had he seen with just as many if not more numbers? He'd survived all of them, but now it was as if the Spirit of the Dark Forest was resting its bony claws on the badger's shoulder, enticing him to the gates of his own demise.

"They have made no claim to fight, yet," the badger said. For now, do nothing until they act. I will not be the one to start this war."

* * *

Anwen slept fitfully, tossing and turning, the sheets wrapped around her slim body. Sweat matted down the fur on her brow, her eyes clenched shut, willing away the images in her mind.

It was the same dream she had been having, and just now the flash of a knife…

Blood, blood all over everything, blood on her hands, down the front of her dress. Breathless. She heard cackled laughter, triumphant, dark as a devil's gaze.

But something changed.

Strong paws held her up, the flash of silver, another blade. Anwen closed her eyes, expecting the slash of the blade, but it never came. A male's voice in her ear whispered,

_Strong be the maiden never lifting the blade  
Whose sight sees farther than the eagle's eyes  
The day when Luna forces Helios to fade  
Lo, Maiden, keep thine eyes upon the skies!_

Anwen awoke with a start, looking around the room for the source of the voice, but she was alone. What had just happened? She stood and checked her reflection in a polished shield hung on her wall. The dark circles under her eyes were getting worse, and she was losing weight. Heaven forbid she allow this continue.

Her family would worry soon. The hares had already noticed by now, and talk spread quickly around the fortress. She sighed, then asked herself this new question: who was that speaker? The voice that spoke to her was comforting, strong and bold, confident, everything she did not have. For the first time in weeks, she had awoken without a sense of dread, but she knew one thing. Whoever the speaker was, she needed to heed his words.


	11. Chapter 11

Tristyn

Chapter 11

A/N: Holy crap, it's been over a year. Sweet baby Jesus…well, this is one chapter. Let's see what happens six months from now…

* * *

Not two days after Cedric had joined their group, Frey had learned that badgers were a very strange breed indeed. The tall badger, for all his strength and might, was serene, eerily so. From the stories the otter had been told about badgers struck by the horrible affliction of the mysterious Bloodwrath, he half expected Cedric to be a bloodthirsty, violent creature.

Instead, when he woke up that morning, the young otter found the badger sitting cross-legged on a boulder, facing the rising sun. The badger's back was ramrod straight, his eyes closed, large paws resting on his knees. Frey slowly got up, stretched and bit back a yawn as he took the chance to walk closer.

Michael was sitting on the ground in front of the boulder, watching Cedric. Frey poked the mouse's shoulder and whispered, "Wot's 'e doin'?"

The mouse shrugged. "He used t' do et all the time when I was growin' up. Sit up on th' ramparts at sunrise, and just…set there."

"He ever say why 'e does it?"

Cedric suddenly spoke, making the two younger creatures jump. "Its called 'meditation' and I do it to become a better warrior."

Michael recovered quickly and rubbed his nose. "Better warrior? Ye don' need that. You're the best there is!"

Cedric chuckled and uncrossed his legs, hopping down from the rock and stretching. "A warrior must always be alert, always in touch with his surroundings. Its something I learned from a healer in my travels. He taught me to watch my breath; it is the life and the energy that makes the spirit whole."

Michael nudged Frey, who watched as the mouse twirled a finger around his head, indicating he thought Cedric had a few screws loose.

"Scoff now, but I can tell you; since I learned how to control my breath I have never had a surprise attack…" the badger side-stepped as Michael charged, a desperate attempt to test the badger's theory. "Nice try, Michael."

The mouse hit the dirt face-first, letting the badger help him up. "Arg, I don' get it. How can ye be so calm all the time? A warrior needs t' be fierce an', an' brave, an' tough…"

"And he must also _not_ go looking for trouble," Cedric warned. "Discretion is the better part of valour."

"Meanin' wot?" Frey asked.

Cedric began picking up their weapons to leave their encampment. "It means, young Frey, that sometimes, retreating is a better option than staying to fight."

Michael looked crestfallen. "Ye…ye mean ye ran away from battle?"

Cedric's smile fell when he saw the mouse's change in mood. He sighed and patted a heavy paw on Michael's shoulder. "Michael, some day you'll understand. Running headlong into battle is foolhardy, and not very smart, if you don't have a plan first."

Michael shrugged off the paw, looking at the badger angrily. "So you're a coward."

Cedric narrowed his eyes, confused by the mouse's outburst. Despite this, he kept his voice level and calm. "What? No, Michael, listen…"

"Ye ran away from battle, when ye could've taken on an entire army!"

"Don't be ridiculous! I know I'm strong, but I can't take on more than twenty creatures at one time. A warrior who doesn't know himself, or know his limits, is a warrior that won't live very long."

Frey halted any of Michael's further outbursts. "I see what you mean."

"You do?" Cedric asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Aye—Discretion is th' better part o' valour. If ye've got a crew of two score, yore not gonna take on a horde of five score, no matter 'ow well yore creatures c'n fight."

Michael grumbled. "I still say et's cowardly."

Cedric snorted. "Next time we find ourselves in a fight, we'll see how long you last against more than one other."

"Fine!"

Frey looked between the two and sighed. First he had been forced to come along on this stupid mission, and now he had to serve as mediator to a badger that could snap him like a twig, and his best friend.

This was going to be a long trip.

* * *

Finn was completely and utterly exhausted. Following the wandering trio was difficult with the badger's swift pace. Already, by his estimation, they were less than a day and a half's journey to Salamandastron. Knowing now what he knew about Cedric's travel habits, thought, it wouldn't have surprised him if they showed up by daybreak.

He stopped long enough to get a drink from a stream and refill his waterskin. He gave himself a minute to think.

He had lost sight of his second quarry. That alone bothered him greatly. Magnus proved to be tougher to track than he had anticipated. What the massive otter wanted with Frey he couldn't say, but that only increased his worry. He recalled that Herryk had told him Magnus was by far the strongest otter in the holt, and also the one with the shortest fuse.

Finn was used to the smaller creatures having the shortest tempers, but Magnus must have been a special case. The massive otter must be consumed with a lust for power unlike anything the chieftain had seen before. Whether or not he would dare to attack one of his own just to assume power over another creature was not just unlikely, it was downright unthinkable.

True, woodlanders in the past had turned on their own and even killed out of rage and jealously. Surely the fury of a creature unafraid of death was terrifying indeed.

The otter chieftain sighed and gazed into the water at his rippled reflection. What in the world was he thinking, all those seasons ago?

He'd first set his eyes upon Amora at her engagement ceremony. Such a ceremony between a chieftain's daughter and a neighboring tribe's chief was nothing more than a diplomatic venture, an effort to save her holt from the complete destruction of vermin raiders. She was beautiful, a fair sandy brown rather than dark like the other females of her holt, with wide warm brown eyes.

Their eyes met across a crowded room, just like in the ballads the minstrels sung that night. He smiled at her, respectfully of course, and she beamed back. That did it.

Soon, they were meeting in secret, exchanging embraces, gentle caresses and sweet kisses. Her family and her betrothed had no idea where she was sneaking out to late at night, but one thing was for certain: it wasn't anywhere appropriate. Her betrothed was kept out of the loop for as long as her parents were able, but when he found out, instead of breaking off the engagement, he guarded her jealously.

Finn was heartbroken, and resigned himself to the fact that it just wasn't meant to be…until she showed up outside his holt late one night. If there was one thing Finn certainly would never regret, it was the night he and Amora had together, trapped in each other's embrace, their bodies melding together, becoming one while the stars bore witness to their copulation.

She disappeared the very next morning. Nobeast knew what had happened to her, until word came from her parent's clan that an otter kit had been left on their doorstep, the babe already given the clan's tattoo.

Well, there was no mistaking it. Frey had his mother's eyes and sandy fur, and had always been a skinny string bean of a child, much like Finn had been. However, while Frey's grandparents figured out their daughter had an illicit affair, though try as they might, they could not have identified the father.

Either way, Finn knew the child was his, and while the honorable thing to do was admit his fault, he had been married to an allied chieftain's daughter from the south, and bringing the child into the marriage would have been disastrous. Not to mention, his good standing in Mossflower would have suffered. Only his closest friends knew the whole story; he had confessed to Charity after Amora had run away, who kept Carys informed. Finn eventually told Herryk and Gris as well. Herryk, heaven bless him, offered to raise the "orphaned" Frey as his own, and while it was a useful ruse, Finn knew that Herryk's high opinion of him had fallen.

Finn looked back at his reflection and sighed. Well, he was going to set things right again. No more cowardice, he needed to tell his son the truth bring Frey to his senses. There was no question in the otter's mind where they were going—they were off to fight the vermin hoard.

But, he wagered, if Magnus was going to do what Finn thought he would do, the trio would have more on their paws than a foreign army to worry about.

Taking one last drink of water, the otter stood, shouldering his weapons and set off along the stream, tailing them as closely as he could.

* * *

Magnus, for his part, was also finding it difficult to keep up. the massive otter knew the badger was aware of his presence, so he knew he'd need to be careful. Strong as he was, he wasn't an idiot; he'd been having a feeling that somebeast was tailing him as well, but he couldn't tell if it were friend or foe. It didn't matter to him, as far as he was concerned, they were one in the same.

Magnus plodded along behind the trio of warriors, following the footprints in the still soggy soil from the previous-night's rain. He was panting, but also plotting.

Usurpation had long been his plan. Herryk was an old fool, and getting older and weaker day by day. Erek was a soft-hearted creature, and just as foolish as his father. No, what the clan needed was a strong warrior as their chieftain, and not a weakling. A creature that was formidable in battle was the perfect match for a chieftain; what enemy would dare attack him?

However, an outright coup, he knew, was out of the question. for reasons he could not explain, the clan loved Herryk and thought him a good leader.

But Magnus knew ways around that.

First, he'd need to find himself a claim to the leadership. Marrying Liv, Herryk's daughter, would be the first step. Herryk and Erek, however, seemed less than enthusiastic; whatever Liv thought, Magnus didn't care. She was a female, and supposed to follow the orders of the males in her family.

There was a loophole to get her paw in marriage.

An untimely, accidental death of her father would make her vulnerable, in need of a creature to talk to, to share in her grief. Magnus would be that creature. Once he gained her trust, it wouldn't be difficult to convince her brother to let them wed. Once that trifle was over, poor Erek would also die accidentally, cruelly snatched away to the Dark Forest in the prime of life. Being the last male in line for leadership, Magnus would finally have control.

However, one problem still persisted: Frey.

Any other creature would have wondered why the strong otter would care about a puny pipsqueak and laughable soldier at best, but Magnus knew what to look for. Frey's only problem, he realized, was that he was still young, still green, and all he needed was to learn the "tricks of the trade" from a seasoned fighter. And that is exactly what Salamandastron had: scores of them, and three—_three!_—badgers to boot.

With the right training, Frey would be a force to be reckoned with. Combine that with the fact the young otter was an observer, Magnus worried that if he allowed the otter to return, then his plans would be foiled by the ever-persistent and sharp-eyed youth. He figured Frey already had suspicions, and allowing the otter to return was unacceptable.

Though, the rational and ethical part of his mind—however small that part was—argued "well, wanting to outright kill the lad is also unacceptable. How do you know your deed won't be discovered?"

Easy: make it look like an accident. How to do that, though, when the badger was constantly around him? And that stupid little hothead of a mouse was also problematic. He and Frey were inseparable friends, never alone for more than a few minutes. If Magnus wanted to act, it would need to be at night, when they were asleep, or…

He smirked dangerously. _Or,_ he could make it to the Mountain, gain their trust, then get Frey alone, perhaps at the top of the crater… No, better yet! Wait until a battle begins, and make for damn sure the youth was killed in battle. That shouldn't be difficult; this new horde looked to be much more ruthless than the others from lore and Magnus' own personal experience. Finally, a challenge.

But, first things first…try to keep up with that damn badger's pace. He trudged along, nearly limping from exhaustion and dehydration. He would need to stop soon, or collapse. As long as he did so before losing their tracks over the rocky landscape coming up, there would be no issue.

* * *

Charity tossed and turned in bed that night, her subconscious mind racing, thoughts and images coming at her from all sides. It had been a long time since she had nightmares, not since the seasons of her travels with the skippers, Carys and Augustus. Compared to what she was seeing, those dreams from her youth were tame.

There was darkness at first, then suddenly her eyes were blinded by a white light, replaced by a world tinged in red. She was looking out over the battlements of Redwall towards the red setting sun, Mossflower woods barren and black. It looked like fire had swept through it, but when she turned to see her beloved abbey, she felt the world collapse around her.

Redwall was gone. All that remained were burning ruins, corpses of beloved friends laying about her feet. Smoke clouded her eyes, blocking out the last vestiges of the sun's rays as they disappeared over the wall tops.

Charity ran down to the abbey grounds, her heart breaking as she saw friends she had grown up with, their bodies mutilated beyond simple recognition. Their sightless eyes stared up to the heavens, and in the case of some, their eyes were removed completely, expressions of the horror shortly before their death still evident on their stiff faces.

Someone called her name and she turned, screaming as a creature raised its arm to bring a sword down on her. An unearthly screech to her right made her turn and she locked on to a pair of golden eyes. The eyes stared back at her with as much fear and confusion as hers no doubt contained.

In an instant, the carnage dissipated into blackness, all around her. The eyes remained the only twin beacons of light that she could afford. A mist slowly formed around her and a booming voice made her jump.

"Charity," the voice called, and to her amazement, the mists formed into an easily recognizable figure: Martin the Warrior.

She almost sobbed with relief. He was here! but almost as soon as she thought this, another one sunk in with a sickening thud. The only time Martin appeared was when a great calamity would befall the abbey. _Oh for heaven's sake, she thought, can Redwall _ever_ go through a prolonged period of peace?!_

Martin raised an armored paw and held it palm up, offering her his paw. She slowly and gingerly took it, wondering if, perhaps…maybe she had died, and he was her guide to the spirit world?

"Charity," he said again, "Now is your time..."

"Swell," she quipped.

"…your time to protect our home."

Ah. Right. She really needed to learn to let others finish their sentences before responding.

"My time? The abbey is in danger again, isn't it?"

He responded cryptically—she expected that, at least.

"_Forget the customs of old,  
__Let reason overtake passion__  
Make friends among the foe;  
Your victory will hasten."_

Charity paused, then asked. "Can you talk…forward?"

Martin sent her a frustrated look, then continued:

"_Follow the twin suns  
will lead you to the champion  
whose own battle will yet be won  
upon the walls of the bastion."_

Another riddle. Two for the price of one—not bad. "Anything else that I need to know?"

"Yes," he said, then sighed. "Build a library _inside_ the abbey, if you don't mind?"

"Right."

"And get the otters to train the non-fighters. Make weapons. Really, this pacifism hasn't done much for you lately."

Charity made a face. "Make one silly decision and you never forget it…"

"Charity…"

"Yes?"

Martin pointed at the eyes. She turned and squirmed a little; they were staring right at them. The Warrior spoke, this time addressing the golden eyes—charity realized, the eyes like twin suns!

"_Son of a father, forgotten again,  
Prepare yourself, O Scion black as coal  
the battle for your life is begun, destroy the bane!  
Kole shall be your name, restored to you is your soul!"_

* * *

She awoke with a start, sitting up and looking around to make sure she was in the same place she had been the night before. She was safe in her bed, the single candlestick by her bedside long since extinguished. The abbess took deep breaths to counteract the panting, her thoughts racing wildly like a great triathlon in her head. When the realization that it was a dream came upon her, a second realization did as well.

The squirrel jumped up, almost as nimbly as if she had been a young creature again and, foregoing her habit, raced through the abbey in her nightdress, down the stairs, across Cavern Hole and the Great Hall. As she rushed past the great tapestry of Martin, she glanced at it, and could have sworn the heroic figure woven into fabric winked at her!

_Saucy rouge,_ she thought. _Had I known him personally, I would've given _him_ what for!_

She finally made it to the Gatehouse and pounded on the door, rousing Augustus from his deep slumber. The elderly mouse fixed his spectacles to the bridge of his nose, yawning,

"M-mother abbess…goodness, Charity, do you realize how late it is?"

She said nothing and brushed past him, almost knocking him over. Augustus sputtered, now more awake than he had been when he answered the door. The mouse watched with great curiosity as Charity began frantically shifting through the parchments and quills.

"Charity, what on _earth_ has gotten into you?" he asked exasperatedly. Charity finally found a spare piece of parchment and an inkwell and began scribbling away with all the zeal that a squirrel in her position could do.

Augustus steadied himself and walked over to the desk where she sat, and looked over her shoulder. Now, it was not unusual for Charity to walk around the abbey at night; it helped her to sleep, knowing everybeast under her care was safely sleeping sound in their beds. What _was _unusual was not wearing her habit, headfur and bushy tail frizzy as if she'd been shocked, and a wild look in her eyes as she maniacally scribbled away. When she finished, she set the inkwell down and handed him the parchment; she struggled to control her breathing, and the mouse saw that she hadn't gone mad. She was excited about something.

"I had a dream. Martin came to me in a dream!"

Augustus smiled, mystified. "He came to you in a dream…oh Charity, what an honour!" The recorder paused, then the blissful smile on his face faded into a bemused frown. "But isn't it odd?"

"What's odd?"

"Martin usually appears like this to the one who will become the Abbey's Champion..."

* * *

Miles away, the black fox jolted awake with a scream. Ren was roused in as rude a fashion as possible, falling off his bunk and onto the hard, cold stone floor. Cursing, he propped himself up and glared at the black fox.

"Thanks, Mate, I needed that."

The fox looked back at his cell mate, and Ren noticed that for the first time in days, the dead look was no longer there in his companion's eyes. Instead, it was a very frantic, crazed look.

Beautiful.

"Alright, fox, take a deep breath," he said soothingly, yet panic began creeping into his voice as he stood. "Yore safe, no one's gonna 'urt you…it was a bad dream, roight?"

The black fox shook his head slowly, looking around the room. A moment of tense silence followed, then the fox addressed him with a mixture of confusion and disappointment, "He's not here…"

"Who's not?"

"The mouse, in the armor."

"What? What mouse?"

"You didn't see him?"

"_Nooo…_" Ren said slowly. "'Tis just you an' me in here. It's been like that since we got 'ere."

The black fox took the brown fox's advice and took some deep breaths and appeared to be calming down. "It must have been a dream then…" then his eyes widened and he gasped. "Ye gods…he must have been a god!"

"Dowhat?" Ren asked in confusion.

The black fox jumped up, pacing the room, his legs wobbling from days of disuse. "He must have been! He talked to me, told me to prepare for battle! He must mean I need to fight Karnak; that _must_ be it!"

"Mate, yore not makin' any sense…"

The black fox suddenly smiled and turned to his friend. "Ren! The mouse god, he gave me a gift! A profound gift, that only a god can give!"

Ren started inching towards the door, getting the guard's attention. He whispered out of the corner of his mouth to the hare on the other side, "I dun care where ye put me, jest get me outta 'ere—I think 'e's cracked!"

The other fox laughed and grabbed Ren by the upper arms. "Ren! I have a soul!"

Ren paused, the guard's face poking up to look into the cell at the black fox. Ren and the female guard shared a dubious look with each other, then Ren answered, "…well, obviously."

"And a name!" the black fox said exuberantly.

Ren hesitated before repeating the words, disbelieving, "The mouse gave ye a name…"

"Yes! It's Kole!"

"Kole?"

"Aye, Kole! Kay Oh Elle EE—Kole! He gave me a new name!"

The female hare spoke up, clearly confused. "I thought only kings could do that, in your culture, I mean."

The newly-named fox flashed a rude gesture out the barred window, intended for Karnak far below. "Hang the king, a freaking _god_ told me this!"

"You sure there was nothing wrong with that mushroom soup tonight?" Ren asked the female.

"Ren! I'm telling you the truth!"

"I'm sure you are…" he conceded, just to keep the peace. He had, after all, just spent three days in captivity with a near-insane mumbling shell of his best friend, so Ren's logical faculties told him that Kyo—or Kole—might still be missing a marble or two.

"Ren, I'm better!"

Ren paused, looking at his friend seriously. "Are you sure?"

"Try me."

"Alroight." He punched him.

Kole backpedaled a couple paces, nursing his cheek, then through a punch into the brown fox's gut, "You slimy, flea-infested, fluffy-tailed bastard!"

Ren's jaw dropped, then he whooped, embracing the fox. "Huzzah! Yore back! Haha!"

"Yes!" Kole celebrated, hugging back.

Then both foxes froze, loosened the hug to look at each other. They looked down their fronts, realized that they were, in fact, _embracing._ Slowly, Kole asked, "Did we…just have a…ah, damn, what're they called. A…_moment_?"

Ren nodded mutely, looking very uncomfortable. "I…_think_ so? I dunno, never 'ad one before."

"It's a moment," the female hare assured them. "Kinda cute in a sick and twisted way, wot."

The foxes quickly parted each other after that and returned to their respective spots in the cell. Before settling down to sleep though, Ren asked, "Oy Ky—I mean Kole?"

"Aye?"

"This doesn't leave the cell, does it?"

Kole shook his head. "This doesn't leave the cell."

* * *

That same night, one more creature joined the rest in a restless, sleepless creatures. Tristyn sat up in her bed, looking out over the shore. The gulls carrying on overhead, their calls quiet and mournful, and the steady crashing of waves upon the sand, she hoped, would lull her to sleep. It had worked for her lapine roommates, who were lightly snoring across the room.

The sea breeze tousled the mousemaid's fur, a heavier wind plastering her white nightgown to her tiny body. She sighed and pulled the covers up to her chin, shivering slightly.

Three days. They'd been in the mountain three days, and neither had the vermin horde attacked them, nor had Kyo apparently gotten any better. Tristyn took a small victory in getting him to eat, but every time she brought him a meal—for he felt threatened by everyone else—he didn't seem to even recognize her. Honestly, she wondered, how much can one creature change in just three days' time?

She sighed, feeling the material of the soft sheets. Almost two weeks ago, she had been a slave, and awaiting execution. All she had ever known was beatings, starvation, dehydration, torture, cruel weather conditions and hard labour. Now, she was surrounded by creatures who were willing to help her, even to the point of doting. She wasn't allowed to lift a finger to help herself, and whenever she asked to help one of the hares, they politely waved her off. Now, she was not one to complain, but, in truth, she was bored. As a slave, the duties of the day were known before your eyes closed the night before. Here, she did not need to do a single thing.

Had she been a more learned creature, she might have taken advantage of the mountain's library—but a hare had told her that the majority of the tomes were about military conquests and genealogies of the badger lords. If the mousemaid could read, she was sure she'd find it incredibly boring.

Finally she got up and tiptoed out of the room. If she couldn't sleep, she might as well find something to occupy her time. Maybe traversing the mountain's many passageways would tire her out, and help her sleep. Maybe…but then she remembered that, this late at night, there was not likely to be as many people about, who could help her if she got lost.

Damn.

_Well_, she thought, _I might as well find someplace to lie down, whenever I feel tired._ Then she thought about which way to go. Go up, to the crater perhaps? Or down, to the kitchens—maybe a cup of chamomile tea (the cook's end-all cure-all) would help.

Tristyn closed her eyes and leaned against a wall, sighing. She stood there a moment, then slid down the wall until she was sitting. The mouse listened to the tiny little noises in the hall, the moment of wind, the gentle drip of water, scurrying of hares in other rooms along the corridor, the sound of her own breathing…

She slipped into darkness, and she started awake, but when she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by mist. The mist was everywhere, heavy with water, soaking into her fur and nightdress. She stood and looked around, seeing nothing, no indication that she was still in the hallway. Where was she?

A light behind her piqued her curiosity and she slowly turned, finding an armored mouse, bearing a beautiful sword. She took a cautionary step back, expecting to fight if the need arose. _You little fool,_ she scolded herself. _He's armed, and clearly trained. What do you have?_

The mouse smiled at her, catching her off guard. He held out his sword to her, a blade that gleamed like polished silver, sides and tip as sharp as shattered obsidian stone, the hilt wrapped in thick twine, graced with a red pommel stone at the top. Tristyn stared at it, completely entranced, hypnotized by its simplistic beauty.

She glanced up at the mouse, who was still smiling in…a rather odd way. She couldn't place it, but the more they stared back at each other, slowly the concept dawned on her. Fatherly affection. So, that's what it looked like…wait! Could this mouse, this one in armor, could he possibly…?

"Dad?" she asked timidly, almost fearing an answer.

The mouse seemed to sigh, but still smiled. He said nothing, but held the sword up a little higher, and Tristyn understood: he was offering it to her. She gingerly took the blade into her small paws, expecting the weapon to pull her down. Marvellously, she could hold it in both paws…one paw! It didn't feel heavy at all, but it looked still so dangerous; a worthy match for any vermin's weapon.

"He will be here soon," said the mouse. Tristyn jumped, almost dropping the sword; she stared at him in amazement. What a strong voice! For a mouse that was…actually not much taller than she was, he had a voice that was commanding, stern yet compassionate.

"W-what?" she stammered.

"He will be here soon. Take care of him when he arrives, and bring him home."

Any fears she had harbored for this mouse evaporated instantly, now that he had spoken. She held the sword reverently, then pleaded, "Please, tell me who you are? I don't know anything about this place or these strange customs. I've been a slave for so long, how can I take care of someone else when I don't know how to care for myself?"

The mouse nodded once, resting a hand on her cheek. "Seek, you will find. Ask, you shall be answered…"

"Must you talk in riddles and rhyme?" she asked.

The mouse's expression changed for a moment to show the wry sense of humor, "Comes with the territory."

"You're a spirit."

He only smiled again and stepped back, fading away into the mist. Tristyn realized she was still holding onto the sword.

"Wait! Your sword! Sir mouse, you're leaving your sword with me, you'll need it! Sir! Sir…"

"_For heaven's sake, wake up!_"

* * *

Tristyn bolted awake, startling Anwen. Mouse and badger stared back at each other for a long moment, until Tristyn recognized her. The mousemaid looked up and down the hallway, getting her bearings. "I was asleep, wasn't I?"

Anwen nodded, her long silvery hair flowing past her shoulders. "You were dreaming. Who did you see?"

Tristyn stood slowly, her back and haunches sore from being in that seated position for so long. "Ugh…some male mouse in armor. He gave me a sword…it was very weird."

"A mouse?"

"Yes. A mouse in armor."

"Did he speak to you?"

"…Yes, he did. Why?"

Anwen smiled. "I know who it is you saw."

Tristyn's ears swivled to catch what the female badger was saying. "Really? Who?"

"Martin the Warrior, the Champion of Redwall."

"What's that?"

"What, Redwall?"

"Aye. Everybeast talks about it, but I don't even know what it is."

Anwen brushed some dust and dirt off the mousemaid's back and led her along the corridor. "I can show you first, but after, we need to go directly to see your friends…"

Tristyn gazed up at her. "Why, is something wrong?"

Anwen smiled and shook her head. "On the contrary. Everything is looking better for them. For one, my father agreed to an interrogation so he coul glean information about the enemy from them—they wont be hurt, you have my guarantee! But even better news: your friend, the black fox?"

"Kyo?" she asked quickly, suddenly filled with dread, despite the badger lady's smile.

"Not anymore," she grinned. "He's better. And has a new name—and, such a small world, he said a mouse war god in gleaming armor and bearing an impressive sword bestowed a new name upon him."

Tristyn arched an eyebrow. "A…mouse war god?"

Anwen giggled. "I can think of no better summary for Martin! But come, before we go, we need to educate you about Mossflower, so we can explain it to those foxes."

"I can't," she protested.

"What do you mean?" Anwen asked.

"I can't read."

Anwen sent her a look of pity, then gently took the mouse's paw into her own. "Then I know where we really need to start."

"But its so late. Don't you sleep?"

"No, but you don't either."

"Fair enough."

Paw in paw, badger and mouse set off to the library. The image of Martin, however, haunted Tristyn—as well as the Warrior's other visitations—for days after.


End file.
